One Man Down
by Bits And Pieces
Summary: Returning from a mission, Carter suffers a mishap and goes missing. Can Hogan and his men find him before it's too late?
1. The Path Less Travelled

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Hogan's Heroes characters; I just like to get them in trouble.

* * *

The Path Less Travelled

 _He was standing in a large field, a familiar place, a place he recognized from his youth. The sun blazed overhead in a clear, cloudless sky, bathing him with its comforting heat. In the distance a line of evergreen trees stretched across the horizon, the dark olive hue of their thick branches contrasting sharply with the lighter foliage overlaying the ground below. A slight breeze sent a ripple through the tall grass surrounding him, bending the long blades gently back and forth. The air was crisp and smelled of pine and wild flowers, and he breathed it in deeply._

 _He heard someone call his name, and turned toward the sound. There, standing on the porch of the farmhouse where he grew up was his mother, waving and beckoning him to come in._

" _Supper's ready!" he heard her call out, after which she turned around and walked back into the house. He took off running toward his home, already anticipating the delicious home-cooked meal that waited inside. He rounded the porch and climbed up the stairs, taking them two at a time, grabbed the doorknob and was just about to enter the house…_

"Raus, raus, everyone up for roll call!"

Sergeant Andrew Carter cringed at the sound of Sergeant Schultz's voice booming through the barracks, and opened his eyes. He heard the men around him complaining loudly as they stumbled from their bunks, and wished he could just roll over and go back to sleep, picking up where he'd left off in his dream that Schultz had so rudely interrupted. Instead, he sighed and pulled off the thin, scratchy blanket covering him before climbing out of his bunk to join in the melee.

"Schultz, why do you always have to wake us up like that?" Carter groused to the big German guard while trying to put on his uniform without getting knocked over by Corporal Peter Newkirk, who had just jumped down from the bunk directly above his.

"Yeah, Schultzie," Newkirk chimed in, "One of these days you're going to give me a bleedin' heart attack!"

Schultz frowned at them, clearly not in the mood. "How else am I supposed to wake you up? Tip-toe through the barracks, maybe? Tap each of you on the shoulder and say, 'It's time to get up now,' like a little child?"

"Boy, could you, Schultz?" Carter said, smiling at the guard as he stuffed his arms into his uniform jacket, "That would be so much better."

"Humph!" Schultz snorted and went back to bellowing at the men in Barracks Two.

The door to the inner office opened and Colonel Robert E. Hogan stepped out, holding his crush cap in one hand while fumbling to zip up his jacket. He got it zipped, and as he walked towards the barracks' door, he donned his cap, sidled up to the disgruntled German guard and asked, "Schultz, what's the matter? You don't seem very happy today."

Schultz let out a big sigh. "Oh, Colonel Hogan, it is the Kommandant – he is in a terrible mood this morning!"

Hogan eyed him with sympathy. "Why is he in a bad mood?"

"He had a date last night with a pretty Fraulein from town," Schultz dropped his voice conspiratorially, "I do not think it went very well."

"Sounds like went well for the Fraulein," Newkirk, who was standing close enough to overhear the conversation, remarked with a grin.

"Newkirk, that's not very nice," Schultz admonished him, but then his eyes twinkled and he tossed the Englander a sideways glance, "Even if you are right."

Upon hearing that, Hogan smirked. Then he raised his hand and began waving it toward the door. "All right, fellas," he said loudly, addressing the barracks at large, "Let's get this over with."

The men filed out into the compound, forming two lines in front of the barracks. Schultz walked down first one line, then turned and walked down the other, counting each man as he passed. Satisfied that everyone was present, he went to stand in front of the prisoners and wait for the Kommandant.

Moments later, Colonel Wilhelm Klink stepped out of the Kommandantur and glared in the direction of Barracks Two. He stomped down the stairs and strode briskly toward them, yelling, "Report!"

Schultz snapped to attention. "Kommandant, all prisoners accounted for."

Klink reached the line of prisoners and stopped in front of Hogan, a scowl clearly evident on his face. "I want no trouble from you or your men today, Colonel Hogan," he warned, "Is that understood?"

Hogan looked at him questioningly. "Is there something wrong, Colonel?"

"Nothing that concerns you, Hogan," Klink huffed.

Hogan tilted his head slightly, as if studying the German Colonel. "You know, you don't look so good, Kommandant… Did you have a rough night?"

"I said it doesn't concern you!" Klink shook his fist angrily at Hogan. "Schultz, dismiss the prisoners!" he snapped, barely tossing a glance at the sergeant. Then he turned on his heel and stomped back to his office.

Schultz looked at Hogan and shrugged. "Prisoners, dismissed."

"Boy, Klink sure was mad," Carter remarked as the men began filing back into the barracks.

Sergeant James Kinchloe, who was walking to the left of Carter, agreed. "Yeah, what's his problem today?"

"I hear he got turned down by a pretty Fraulein last night," Newkirk piped up from Carter's right.

A smirk formed on Kinch's face. "I don't why that would make him mad; he should be used to it by now."

The three men were chuckling as they entered the building and went to take seats at the large common area table near the stove. Corporal Louis LeBeau, their comrade in arms and resident chef, was already busying himself with the task of preparing the morning meal, when he suddenly let out a groan. He turned from the box of supplies he'd been rummaging through, a frown on his face.

"Mon Colonel," LeBeau said addressing Hogan, who had just come out of his office after putting away his crush cap, "Our food supplies are almost gone. I don't have enough here to make breakfast."

Hogan leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms. "I was afraid of that. We haven't been able to get to the black market in days, and Schultz put another guard in charge of the trucks bringing the shipments in, and the new guy won't let us near them."

"So, what do we do about breakfast?" LeBeau asked, and before anyone could answer, he added hurriedly, "And please don't say what I think you're going to say."

"Sorry, LeBeau," Hogan sighed, "We're going to have to eat at the mess hall."

* * *

After an unappetizing breakfast of some sort of tasteless mush at the camp mess hall, the men returned to Barracks Two. Schultz showed up sometime later and, to their dismay, informed Hogan that the Kommandant wanted the prisoners to clean up the compound. Most of the men were assigned to cleanup detail, while Hogan insisted LeBeau be sent to help in the kitchen where, with any luck, the Frenchman would be able to procure some more food supplies.

Carter and Newkirk were part of the group assigned to clean up the camp. After collecting their tools, they headed out and got to work.

"At least it's nice and warm out," Carter remarked to Newkirk while stabbing a discarded piece of paper with the stick he was carrying and popping it into the trash bag slung over his shoulder.

Newkirk turned his face upwards and squinted at the radiant sun overhead. "Yeah, hardly seems fair we're stuck working on a day like today." He let out a sigh and turned back to sweeping dirt and leaves from the road that ran through the compound.

Carter's eyes lit up. "Hey, maybe when we're done, Colonel Hogan will let us set up the volleyball net! I mean, it's almost October; who knows how many more nice days we've got left? Pretty soon it'll get cold and before you know it, it'll start snowing, and then we won't be able to play volleyball anymore…"

"Andrew, quit your natterin'," Newkirk muttered and kept sweeping.

Carter's face fell. "Sorry, Newkirk." _I did it again, didn't I,_ he admonished himself. He didn't mean to talk so much, but sometimes he just couldn't help it. Maybe it was some compulsive need he had to explain every thought that was rattling around in his brain, or maybe the filter between his thoughts and his mouth ceased to function when he became excited. Either way, whenever he started rambling, it usually led to the inevitable frustration of whoever was on the receiving end.

Newkirk sighed. He stopped working and straightened up to look Carter in the eye. "It's all right, mate, I'm not mad, see?" He flashed the sergeant a quick smile. "Now, let's get back to work. The sooner we finish, the sooner we can play volleyball."

Carter nodded, and as Newkirk turned and resumed sweeping, Carter went back to picking up trash, but this time he was determined to keep his mouth in check.

* * *

The hours ticked by and the men worked diligently, hoping to finish up with time left in the day to participate in some recreational activities outdoors. At last the work was done, and after putting their tools away, Carter and Newkirk headed for Barracks Two.

They were greeted with the aroma of something delicious cooking on the stove near the large common area table. LeBeau looked up from stirring the contents in the pot and smiled.

"Mes amis, you are just in time. Lunch is ready." LeBeau grabbed some plates and started dishing out the tantalizing stew he'd just made.

Hogan stepped out of his office and took a deep breath. "LeBeau, that smells wonderful," he said as the Frenchman handed him a plate. Hogan took it over to the table and sat down. Eyeing his two subordinates who had just entered the barracks, he gestured toward the stove, a half grin forming on his face.

"You guys better get something to eat; you look like you could use it."

"Boy, we sure could, Colonel," Carter replied, "I'm starving!" He walked over to the stove and grabbed a plate of stew from LeBeau.

Newkirk nodded in agreement. "Right, sir, I'm about weak in the knees after that ruddy slop they served us for breakfast." He followed Carter to get a plate as well, and the two men came back to the table, taking their seats across from Hogan.

Carter took a bite and sighed in delight. "Mmm, LeBeau, this is great!" he muttered as he chewed. A frown suddenly appeared on his face and, after swallowing the portion in his mouth, he asked the Frenchman, "But I thought you said we were low on supplies?"

"Oui, but I was able to sneak enough food from the kitchen to make this stew." LeBeau crinkled his nose up. "I'm with Pierre; after that horrible mush from this morning, I could not bear to eat my next meal there!"

"Got that right, mate," Newkirk mumbled through his own mouthful of food.

LeBeau fixed a plate for himself and joined the men at the table. They ate in silence until their dishes were empty, too focused on filling their stomachs to bother with conversation.

When they'd finished, it was Carter who spoke up first. "Say, Colonel, could we put up the volleyball net this afternoon?"

"Is the work all done out there?" Hogan asked.

Newkirk nodded as he pushed his plate away. "Yes, sir, it's finished."

"Yeah, the compound's so clean, you could eat off it!" added Carter.

"That would explain breakfast," LeBeau muttered as he collected the dirty plates.

Hogan smiled. "Well, I don't see any reason why you can't play volleyball this afternoon –"

He was interrupted by the sound of a bunk toward the rear of the barracks banging up to reveal the entrance to the tunnel below. Kinch appeared and, after quickly crawling out of the tunnel, hit the side of the upper bunk twice to make it close. He walked over to the table and addressed Hogan.

"Message from London, sir, it's important."

Hogan's face turned serious. "In my office," he said, rising from the table.

The other three men stood up as well, and they all followed Kinch into Hogan's quarters. As they situated themselves inside the tiny room, Carter, the last man inside, shut the door and moved over to lean against the end post of Hogan's bunk.

Hogan took the message from Kinch and skimmed through it. "Looks like the Krauts are building some sort of factory outside of town, and London wants us to find out what they're planning to use it for."

"Humph," LeBeau snorted, "Why would the Krauts want to build another factory around here?"

"Maybe because we keep blowing 'em up," replied Newkirk, jabbing his elbow lightly into the French Corporal's side, who was standing next to him. They both smiled, but quickly turned serious when Hogan glanced in their direction.

"We may just have another one to blow up," Hogan said, "Depending on what we find out." His brow furrowed as he thought for a moment. "All right, I need two of you to go out tonight after roll call and scout out this new factory." He glanced around the room. "Any volunteers?"

All eyes except the colonel's suddenly looked at the floor.

Hogan inwardly sighed. "Oh c'mon fellas, none of us have been outside the wire in days. I'm sure some of you would like to get out of camp for a while…"

Carter glanced up just as Hogan's eyes met his.

"Carter!" Hogan smiled at him, "Thanks for volunteering."

Carter's eyes went wide. "Colonel, I wasn't –"

"Sir, maybe you should send –"

"And Newkirk!" Hogan cut him off, "Glad to have you on board." He reached over and clapped the Englander on his shoulder.

Newkirk's face fell. "Yes, sir," he replied meekly, inwardly kicking himself for speaking up. He didn't even get to finish suggesting to the colonel to send LeBeau!

"All right, you and Carter go down into the tunnel and study the map," Hogan told his English 'volunteer', "Here are the coordinates." He handed the message over to Newkirk. "Make sure you're back up here for roll call."

"But, Colonel, what about volleyball?" Carter asked plaintively.

Hogan shook his head. "Sorry, not today, Carter." Noticing the sergeant's crestfallen expression, he added, "Tomorrow, I promise."

Carter's face perked up a little. "Yes, sir," he said; then, seeing Newkirk heading for the door, he turned and followed him out into the main barracks, through the false bottom bunk, and down into the tunnel below.

* * *

Later that night, after emerging briefly for evening roll call, Newkirk and Carter climbed back down into the tunnel to prepare for their mission.

Hogan and Kinch had followed them down, and while Kinch stepped over to man the radio, the colonel turned to face his two men.

"You two know where you're going, right?" Hogan asked them as they picked up a couple of flashlights and stuffed them into their pockets.

"Sure, Colonel," Carter answered, "We've got it memorized." He walked over and grabbed one of the handguns from their stash and shoved it into his other pocket.

"Yes, sir," Newkirk added, getting a gun for himself, "The factory's west of town, about six kilometers. I'd say we can be there in an hour, have a look see, and come straight back. Take us, oh, three hours, tops."

"All right," Hogan said, "Just be careful."

"Don't worry, Colonel, it'll be a piece of pie!"

Newkirk rolled his eyes. "Cake, Andrew."

"Oh, yeah, cake," Carter replied self-consciously.

Newkirk let out a sigh. "Let's go," he said, heading for the exit tunnel while gesturing for Carter to follow.

The two men walked to the end of the tunnel, climbed up through the hollow tree stump and, after evading the lights from the search tower, slipped away from camp. They moved through the forest as quickly and quietly as possible, their ears attuned to pick up any sign of a German patrol. They knew where they were going, but they weren't very familiar with the area itself, having had few missions that took them to that location before.

As they entered the part of the forest that wasn't as well known to them, they found a path to follow that made their trek a bit easier. When they got close to the factory, they stopped short and dropped to the ground, inching up a small rise until they could just see over the top. There, sprawled out before them in the forest, was a large complex, its buildings spread across a dozen or so acres of land. Many of the trees had not been cleared; they'd been left to intermingle with the buildings, acting as camouflage. The entire facility was surrounded by a high fence topped with barbed wire, and there were guards patrolling along the inside.

"Geez, Newkirk, look at the size of that place!" Carter whispered to the Englishman.

"I see it, Carter," Newkirk whispered back, his brow furrowed in thought. "We need to get a better look at it, but it'll take us too long to go all the way 'round..." Suddenly his eyebrows shot up. "I know, you go that way," he pointed to the left, "And I'll go that way," now he pointed to the right, "And we'll meet back here in," he glanced at his watch, "Thirty minutes."

Carter looked uncertain. "I don't know, Newkirk, do you really think we should split up?"

"We'll be fine, Andrew, just keep to the trees and be quiet. We've got to find out what they're plannin' to use this ruddy place for."

Carter nodded. "Yeah, you're right, Newkirk. Boy, it sure looks creepy if you ask me, I mean, why would they put it out here, right in the middle of the woods like this? It doesn't make any sense. I bet the colonel's gonna be surprised when we tell him about – "

"Andrew!"

Carter stopped mid-sentence and looked sheepishly at Newkirk, who was glaring at him. "Sorry."

"Just go!" Newkirk hissed, pointing in the direction he'd told Carter to take.

Carter got up and moved stealthily to the left, circling around the perimeter while staying out of sight. He crept along the tree line, stopping every few yards or so to look towards the complex, trying to make out the buildings in the darkness. He checked his watch periodically, and after fifteen minutes, he turned around and made his way back to the rendezvous point. When he got there, he didn't see Newkirk, so he crouched down next to a large bush to wait for him.

Several minutes went by, and Carter checked his watch. _Where is he? He should be here by now!_

He peered out into the darkness, straining to catch a glimpse of movement through the trees, wondering what was taking Newkirk so long. He checked his watch again, and had just about decided to get up and go look for him, when he heard a noise through the trees, a sound like footsteps. The sound got closer, and he could tell there were more than one set of footsteps headed in his direction.

A German patrol!

Carter jumped up and took off running, following the path back the way he and Newkirk had come. He was being as careful as he could with his footfalls, trying not to make too much noise, while his ears were straining to pick up any sounds of pursuit. He kept going until he felt himself running out of breath. Then he stopped and listened for a few moments and, when he didn't hear anyone following him, he breathed a sigh of relief.

He thought about going back to find Newkirk, but now he wasn't sure if he should; what if his friend was picked up by the patrol? But if Newkirk was in trouble, it didn't feel right to just leave him. But if he went back to camp, he could tell Colonel Hogan what happened, and he'd figure out a way to help Newkirk.

Of course, Newkirk might have missed the patrol, and when he showed up at the rendezvous spot and didn't see him, he would have headed back to camp on his own.

Carter sighed. _What should I do?_

His indecision didn't last long. He started to move back up the path, determined to check for Newkirk at the rendezvous point. If the Englander wasn't there, then he'd head back to camp.

Carter had barely gone a few yards when he noticed another path intersecting the one he was following, and realized he must have missed that when he was running from the patrol. When he reached the point where they crossed he stopped, unsure of which way to go. _I know one of these is the path we took to the factory, but which one?_

Carter deliberated a moment longer, then, he picked what he thought was the right one and started walking. He hadn't gone far when he noticed he was entering a small clearing. _I don't remember this_ ,he thought, starting to become alarmed now as he took another step.

In the darkness, he couldn't see the gaping hole in front of him; it blended in perfectly with the shadows. As he brought his foot down, there was nothing there for it to make contact with; he lost his balance and began to fall. Instinctively he threw his arms out to catch himself, grabbing the edge of the hole briefly before his hands slipped off and he plummeted through the opening.

As he descended, he clutched at the vertical wall of dirt in an attempt to break his fall, but his gloved fingers could find no purchase. Instead, he dropped like a stone, landing hard on the bottom below. There was a flash of white-hot pain, and then nothing…


	2. A Grim Realization

A Grim Realization

Newkirk crept behind the trees just beyond the perimeter fence of the new factory that he and Carter had been sent to investigate. He'd been making his way around the right side of the complex, peering at each building as he passed. They all looked the same; large, grey, nondescript structures, no visible markings on any of them. As he continued edging around the complex, he sighed quietly in frustration. _If this is what Carter's running into on the other side, we'll not have much to tell the colonel._

Newkirk checked his watch, and noticed it was time for him to head back to the spot where he was to rendezvous with Carter. He was just about to turn around, when something up ahead caught his eye. He crept forward slowly to get a better look, and sucked in his breath when he realized what he was looking at.

Two large flatbed trucks were parked behind one of the buildings. They were both loaded with something very big and very long. One of the trucks had a tent like structure over it, effectively hiding its contents. But the other truck had no such cover, and Newkirk immediately recognized what it was carrying.

It was a missile; a newer, more advanced looking missile – which made it likely, given the lengths they'd gone to conceal it, that the complex was being used for missile research and development.

 _Cor! The gov'nor will flip when we tell him about this!_

That thought reminded him that he had to get back to meet up with Carter. He turned and started to head back to the rendezvous point, moving quickly but quietly, ever staying behind the tree line. As he neared his destination, he heard voices ahead, and they were talking in German.

Newkirk knew what that meant; a patrol. He glanced around his surroundings, and noticed some tall brush behind and to the left of him. He stepped over to the brush and crouched down until he was hidden from view.

He waited there until the voices moved away; then, when he felt it was safe, he stood up and hurried over to find Carter.

When he got to their meeting place; however, the American sergeant was nowhere to be seen.

 _Oh, bugger, now where's Andrew gone off to?_

Newkirk circled the area, but saw no sign of him. _Maybe he saw the patrol, and scarpered. Most likely on his way back to camp right now._

Since there wasn't much else he could do at this point, Newkirk decided to head back himself. With any luck, he would catch up to Carter along the way.

* * *

Newkirk arrived back at Stalag Thirteen alone and, after evading the searchlights once again, climbed down through the hollow tree stump and into the tunnel below. He walked toward the main juncture below the barracks and when he got there, wasn't surprised to see Kinch and Hogan in virtually the same position they'd been in when he and Carter had left.

"Newkirk, you're back," Hogan stated matter-of-factly, but to the Englishman it sounded more like a sigh of relief.

"Yes, sir, I am," Newkirk glanced around the room, "Has Carter come back yet?"

A frown appeared on Hogan's face. "You mean he's not with you?"

Newkirk shook his head, "No, sir, we split up to have a look at that factory. We were supposed to meet up after, but he wasn't at the meetin' place when I got there," worry started creeping into his voice, "I thought he came back here."

Hogan's eyes narrowed as he folded his arms in front of his chest. "Whose idea was it for you two to split up?"

Newkirk shifted uncomfortably, "Mine, sir." When Hogan continued to stare at him, he rushed on, "Being as how the place was so big and all, it was the only way for us to get a proper look…" He paused, his eyes widening, "Colonel, they're using it to build missiles!"

It was Hogan's turn to look surprised. "Are you sure, Newkirk?"

"Yes, sir, I saw 'em meself!" Newkirk went on to describe the complex, as well as the trucks he'd spotted, and the missile that had been clearly visible on one of them.

Hogan dropped his arms and turned to his radioman. "Kinch, send a message to London, let them know we've got a missile plant in the neighborhood."

"Yes, sir," Kinch said, turning his attention to the radio on the table in front of him. He lifted the headphones from around his neck and, after positioning them over his ears, got to work.

Hogan turned back to his English corporal. "About Carter –"

"Colonel," Newkirk interrupted, "I was a bit late gettin' back to the rendezvous point; that's why I thought he must've come back here on his own."

"Why were you late?"

"Right before I got there, I heard a patrol mucking about in the woods, and I had to hide, quick-like…" Newkirk sucked in his breath, "Blimey, sir, you don't think they nabbed him, do you?"

Hogan tensed, the lines on his forehead becoming more prominent as he frowned. "I hope not," he said. He shot a glance toward the man seated behind the radio. "Kinch, when you're done messaging London, contact the Underground; see if they can find out if anyone's been arrested recently near that plant."

Without looking up from the radio, Kinch replied, "Yes, sir."

"Sir," Newkirk spoke up, "Maybe I should go back out and look for him, he could've gotten turned around, you know how he is, and –"

Hogan was already shaking his head. "No, Newkirk, there's not enough time; you'd never make it back for roll call."

"But, sir..."

"I said no," Hogan stated firmly. Seeing the disappointed expression form on the Englander's face, he reached up and placed his hand on Newkirk's shoulder. "There's still a chance he'll show up on his own."

Newkirk nodded slightly. "I hope so, Colonel."

* * *

The wee hours of the morning passed by slowly, and still there was no sign of Carter. The Underground had no information for them; either, which could be taken as good news or bad news. Good news in that it didn't appear Carter had been caught after all; bad news in that they still had no clue where he could be.

An hour before roll call, Hogan insisted they all go up top to the barracks to catch a quick nap. But as Newkirk climbed up to his bunk, he already knew he wasn't going to get any sleep. He stretched out on his back and stared at the ceiling, regretting his decision to have them split up at the factory. They should have stayed together; then Carter would be back here and he, himself, wouldn't be feeling so guilty about leaving his friend behind. But then, he might not have discovered what was going on at the plant, and the colonel would have had nothing to tell London… And, considering what he'd found, he knew Hogan – and London – needed to know.

But at least Carter would be here, safe and sound.

Newkirk sighed quietly and, for the thousandth time, went over the mission in his head, trying to think of anything he missed, but nothing came to mind. All he could do at this point was hope that wherever he was, Carter was okay.

* * *

As consciousness slowly returned, Carter wasn't sure what he became aware of first; the pain radiating from his head and leg, or the cold that had seemingly settled into his very bones. He was lying on his right side, curled up in a kind of half-fetal position. His right leg throbbed with pain from the knee down, and his right temple ached. The cold caught his attention again and he felt himself shiver, which set off a new flash of pain in his leg, forcing a moan to escape his lips.

"Wha… What happened?" he mumbled, blinking his eyes open. He squinted in the darkness, trying to figure out where he was, and how he got there. As he tried to lift his head he let out another moan, wincing from the sudden sharp stab of pain attacking his temple.

"Oh, my head…" Carter groaned, reaching up with his right hand. Even with his glove on he could feel the bump that had formed there _. I must have hit it when I fell,_ he thought, remembering the misstep he had taken earlier. He placed his left hand on a spot on the ground close to his body and, bracing it against the hard surface below, started to push himself up.

Searing pain shot through his leg, and this time he cried out.

He lowered himself back down, shoving his right hand underneath his head to cushion his sore temple. He was breathing heavily, his face scrunched up in agony. _I think my leg's broken_ , he thought fearfully, _that can't be good…_

After a few minutes his breathing slowed to normal, and he let out a sigh. He lay there for a while, letting the pain in his leg subside to a more tolerable dull ache, while his eyes strained, trying to catch a glimpse of his surroundings. It was still very dark, but he thought he caught a smidgen of light out of the corner of his left eye. He pressed his hand against the ground once again to support himself; then turned his head so he could look up.

The three-quarter moon was passing overhead, casting just enough of its glow down onto the earthy cavity Carter was occupying to give him a view of the opening up above.

"Oh boy, I'm in big trouble," he said aloud, and nearly jumped at the sound of his own voice echoing back to him in the limited space.

 _I've got to get a better look around, but it's so dark down here... Wait, I've got my flashlight!_

Carter reached around with his left hand and started fumbling for the pocket on his jacket where he'd put the flashlight. But when he found the opening and reached inside, the pocket was empty.

"Just my luck," he mumbled, keeping the volume of his voice lower this time. A thought occurred to him. _Maybe it fell out when I hit the ground. I gotta see if I can find it._

He moved his left hand back and placed it on the ground in front of him. After mentally counting to three, he began to lift himself with his right elbow, which was tucked next to his side, while pushing up with his hand. Pain flared from his leg, and he grit his teeth, determined to not let it stop him this time.

As he got himself into a sitting position, a noise bubbled out of his mouth, a mix between a moan and a growl. His face contorted from the pain, and he squeezed his eyes shut tight. His body broke out in a cold sweat, and he stopped moving and held his position, taking in deep breaths and exhaling forcefully.

After a few moments he opened his eyes. He still couldn't see much, but at least he was sitting up. Carefully he swept his left hand along the ground around him and, to his relief, almost immediately felt the long cylindrical metal of the flashlight handle. He grabbed it eagerly and flicked it on, aiming it at the ground in front of him.

The first thing he saw was his right leg; it lay twisted in an unnatural position below his knee. He instinctively reached forward to touch it, but the movement caused the pain to shoot up, so he gave up and pulled his hand back. Instead he decided to bring the flashlight a little closer and shine it directly at his leg, examining it that way. It didn't help much; he couldn't see the damage through his pants leg, but he did notice a complete lack of blood, either on his uniform pants or the ground underneath, and breathed a small sigh of relief. _Looks like it didn't break the skin… At least I don't have to worry about bleeding to death!_

He brought up the flashlight and swept it around the enclosed space, at last getting a good look at his surroundings.

He was sitting at the bottom of what resembled a vertical tunnel. The earthen floor beneath him was roughly circular in shape, the diameter just long enough for him to stretch out lengthwise. The dirt walls encompassing him rose upwards to an opening that narrowed slightly at the top, and there were weeds and tufts of grass visible around the rim.

Perhaps what he'd stumbled into had been a well a long time ago, abandoned and reclaimed by nature over numerous years. Or perhaps it was just a narrow sinkhole that had seized the opportunity of his passing overhead to open up and swallow him whole. In any case, he was stuck, and he knew it. It was at least 60 feet to the top, maybe more, and his leg was in no condition to attempt a climb.

"How the heck am I supposed to get out of here?" he muttered, and then a thought struck him, _I wonder if Newkirk is looking for me?_

He craned his head back to stare up at the opening. "Gee, how is he ever going to find me down here?" His voice trembled as he felt himself starting to panic.

"Newkirk?" he called loudly, "Newkirk, are you up there? I'm down here, I'm stuck in this hole and my leg's broken and I could sure use some help to get out of here –"

He suddenly realized what he was doing, and quickly clamped his mouth shut. That German patrol might be up there, and he didn't want them to hear him calling Newkirk's name. He also didn't want to get picked up by them because, because…

 _Wait a minute, I'm in uniform… If they find me, I can just say I was trying to escape. Sure beats being stuck down here!_

"Hey, is anyone up there?" Carter yelled, with a little more gusto this time, "I'm down here! I escaped from a prison camp, and I fell down this hole… Can you hear me? Is anyone there?"

He stopped to listen, but was met by silence. He called out a few more times, but still heard nothing.

"Well, that didn't work," he said aloud. After all that yelling, he was finding the sound of his own voice somewhat comforting. "Now what?"

He looked down and realized the flashlight he was holding was still on. After deliberating for a moment, reached up and flicked the switch to 'off'. _I better save the batteries for now._

He sat there in the darkness for a while, contemplating what he should try next, until he felt his eyelids grow heavy, and he let out a yawn. "Maybe if I get some sleep, I can try again in the morning… At least I'll be able to see better."

He started to lie back down, which caused a new burst of pain in his leg. He clenched his jaw as he lowered himself, trying not to move his injured leg too much. At last he was on his side, and he slid his hand underneath his head once again to act as a pillow for the sore spot on his temple.

With his other hand he latched onto the front of his coat, pulling it tight, and closed his eyes, willing the pain in his leg to subside enough for him to get some sleep.

It must have worked; because, soon after, he was out like a light.


	3. Lost And Not Found

Lost and Not Found

"Raus, raus, everybody up for roll call!" Schultz yelled as he flung open the door to Barracks Two.

Newkirk let out a sigh and rolled to the edge of his bunk. "Yeah, Schultz, I'm rausin'," he muttered as he jumped to the floor below. He stole a glance at the empty bunk below his, and a pang of worry and guilt ran through him.

Schultz followed his gaze, after which he looked back at Newkirk questioningly. "Where's Carter?"

"Oh, I'm sure he's around here somewhere, Schultzie," Newkirk lied, not sure yet what the colonel's plan was for covering for the missing sergeant.

Hogan, who had walked up in time to overhear, said, "He escaped, Schultz. You better call out the guards."

Schultz's eyes widened. "Escaped? Oh, Colonel Hogan, please to do not tease me…"

"That's right, Schultz, Carter escaped," Newkirk added, following Hogan's lead, "Must have slipped me mind."

"Yeah, Schultz," Hogan put a hand on the big guard's shoulder, "You'd better call out the guards and start looking for him. We don't want him ruining Colonel Klink's perfect no escape record, do we?" He shook his head 'no', emphasizing the point.

Without realizing it, Schultz started copying Hogan, shaking his head back and forth. "Of course not, Colonel Hogan, the Kommandant would be very angry if that happened," a scowl appeared on his face, "And I'm sure he would take it out on me."

"Well, what are you waiting for then, Schultz?" Hogan gestured to the door, "A prisoner's escaped! Send the guards, release the dogs; there's no time to waste!"

Schultz was already hurrying to the door. He brought his whistle up to his lips and was just about to blow on it, when he glanced back at Hogan, a frown on his face. "Colonel Hogan, this better not be more of your monkey business," his frown changed to a worried expression, "Sergeant Carter will be back, won't he?"

Hogan shrugged. "That's up to you, Schultz."

Schultz turned back and, as he walked out the door, murmured, "Oh, boy, am I in trouble!"

Seconds later, the men in the barracks heard the sound of Schultz's whistle and his shouts to the guards about a prisoner missing.

After watching the German guard leave, Newkirk turned his head to look at Hogan. "Blimey, sir, why did you do that?"

"Maybe they'll find him," Hogan said, tension etched on his face, "The more people looking for him, the better."

LeBeau, who had walked up during Hogan's conversation with Schultz, glanced from the colonel to Newkirk and back. "Carter's not here?"

Kinch, who was right behind LeBeau, replied, "He never came back last night."

"What happened?" asked LeBeau, instantly concerned.

"We'll fill you in after roll call," Hogan said, and started ushering the men outside.

As the men lined up in front of the barracks, they noticed the compound had broken out into a sort of controlled chaos. Guards were joining up near the front gate to form patrols, and one of them had let the dogs loose. Schultz was still barking orders when Klink appeared outside the Kommandantur, an angry scowl on his face.

"What's going on?" Klink yelled as he marched across the compound, headed straight for Schultz.

The German guard snapped to attention and saluted. "Kommandant, one of the prisoners has escaped!"

Klink threw him a sloppy salute in return. "Well, don't just stand there, sound the alarm! Release the dogs! Send out the guards!"

"That's what I just did, Herr Kommandant."

Klink glanced around the compound and, realizing the sergeant was right, snapped, "Yes, of course, I knew that, Schultz!" He then turned his attention to the prisoners in front of Barracks Two, striding quickly over to the line of men and stopping in front of the senior prisoner of war.

"Colonel Hogan, what is the meaning of this?"

Hogan leaned forward a tad and looked at him quizzically, "The meaning of what, sir?"

Klink's scowl deepened. "How could you let one of your men escape?"

Hogan straightened back up and shook his head slightly. "Believe me, Kommandant, he didn't have my permission."

"Humph!" Klink brought his hand up and waggled his finger at Hogan. "Until he's found, you and the prisoners are restricted to the barracks!" He dropped his arm and yelled, "Dismissed!"

As Klink turned around and stomped back to his office, Hogan turned toward the barracks and, with a glance at his men, said, "In my quarters."

The three men headed for the door and, after entering, crossed the main area of the barracks and went into Hogan's quarters. The colonel was already there, leaning against his bunk. Kinch closed the door as Newkirk and LeBeau moved over to stand in front of the desk.

"All right," Hogan said when the men were settled, "First off, LeBeau, that factory Newkirk and Carter went to investigate last night is a missile plant."

LeBeau let out a whistle. "Mon Dieu! I'm sure London wasn't happy to hear about that, were they, Colonel?"

Hogan crossed his arms. "No, they weren't. I have a feeling they're going to want us to take care of it, and soon." He let out a sigh and continued, "Which brings me to our bigger problem… Carter's missing."

"Colonel," Newkirk spoke up, "Let me go look for him, I'm sure I can find him. You know Carter, most likely got himself lost. He's probably sneaking 'round the forest by that trail we followed, wondering which way back to camp –"

Hogan held up his hand. "No, Newkirk, it's broad daylight, and the guards are going to be all over the place."

"But, sir…" Newkirk pleaded.

Hogan could see the anguish in Newkirk's eyes. He stepped over to his English corporal and, laying a hand on his shoulder, said, "Look, I'm just as worried about him as you are. But you can't blame yourself, Newkirk; you did what you were supposed to do. Wherever Carter is, we're just gonna have to believe he's okay." He paused; then added, "Let's just hope one of the guards finds him."

Newkirk still wanted to protest, but he knew Hogan was right; it would be too dangerous for him to go out and look for Carter right now. "Yes, sir," he nodded slightly, looking defeated.

Hogan squeezed Newkirk's shoulder. "Tell you what, if they don't find him, we'll go out tonight and look for him ourselves."

Newkirk perked up at that. "Now you're talkin', Colonel," he replied, as LeBeau and Kinch nodded in agreement.

"All right," Hogan dropped his hand and looked at his radioman, "Kinch, go down to the tunnel and see if London's been trying to contact us."

Kinch nodded, "Yes, sir."

Hogan turned to his other two men. "Newkirk, you and LeBeau go with him; I want you all to study the map. Newkirk, show them the route you took."

"Right, sir," the Englishman answered.

As the three men began to head for the door, LeBeau stopped and shot Hogan a glance. "What about you, sir?"

"I'll be down later," Hogan told him, "I want to stay up here for a while, in case Schultz has any news for us."

LeBeau nodded and followed Kinch and Newkirk out of the office. When they'd reached the false bottom bunk, they climbed below. Kinch went to man the radio, and the other two men moved over to the map table. As they leaned in to study it, Newkirk filled LeBeau in briefly about what had happened the previous night, ending with, "Sure wish I was out there lookin' for Carter right now. Blimey, Louis, I never should have come back without him."

LeBeau placed a comforting hand on Newkirk's back. "Don't blame yourself, Pierre, it sounds to me like you didn't have a choice."

"Maybe, but I'm right sick about it."

"Don't worry, mon ami," LeBeau tried to reassure his friend, "If the guards don't find him, we will."

Newkirk let out a sigh. "I hope so, Louis, I really hope so."

* * *

 _He's standing in the field near his home, watching the sun spread out its glorious red and orange tendrils of ebbing light as it slowly sets beyond the horizon. The breeze caresses his face, the grass sways at his feet. He hears the chirps and whistles of the birds as they sing the sun to sleep, and watches the fireflies start their nightly dance among the waving grass. A peaceful scene, fading slowly to black… When suddenly the air whips up, the wind turns cold and starts to blow fiercely, chilling his exposed skin and numbing his face. Snow joins in, circling around him, piling up quickly and trapping his legs until there's no way to escape. He wraps his arms around himself in an effort to stay warm, but the cold is too much and he starts to shiver…_

Carter squeezed his eyes shut tight as he shivered himself awake, the pain in his leg quickly making its presence known. He drew his coat tighter around himself before blinking his eyes open and staring out into the confined space surrounding him. It was still fairly dark at the bottom of the deep pit he was in, but there was enough light filtering down from above that he could tell it was daytime.

Carter took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I was hoping I wasn't still here," he mumbled to himself. He turned his head to look up at the opening. _Well, I better figure out some way to get out of here, or else…_ he stopped, not wanting to finish that thought.

Once again he put his left hand on the ground in front of his body and pushed himself up to a seated position, gritting his teeth as he did so, his head throbbing with the effort, his leg letting him know exactly how it felt about being moved. Before he could change his mind, he also scooted himself a few inches towards the dirt wall behind him, so he could lean back against it. Once he'd gotten himself situated, he let out the breath he didn't even know he'd been holding, and relaxed his arms, bringing his hands up and plopping them on his lap.

Carter sat there for a few moments, letting his body accustom itself to the new position. As he glanced around his enclosure, wondering if he could try to climb out even with a broken leg, he felt his stomach rumble and realized he was hungry _. I guess it's been a while since I've eaten anything._ Thinking of food made him aware of how thirsty he was, too. _Well, this isn't good… I don't have any water with me, either._

He craned his neck to look up at the opening, and could see a touch of green surrounding the rim, with the bright blue of the sky beyond. A thought popped into his head, and he said aloud, "I wonder what time it is?" He grabbed the flashlight and turned it on, shining it at his watch. "Ten o'clock in the morning? Boy, that's the latest I've slept in since I've been a prisoner of war!" He clicked off the flashlight and set it down next to him. "Of course, I'd much rather be back at camp, I wouldn't have minded so much getting up early for roll call…Uh, oh, I wasn't there for roll call this morning, was I? I wonder what the colonel had to do to cover for me?" He thought for a moment. "Oh, I'm sure he came up with something; Colonel Hogan always knows what to do." He looked back up at the opening above. "Sure wish he'd show up here right about now, and find me…"

Carter sighed, and then his face filled with a look of determination. "I've got to try to get out of here." He placed his palms down flat on either side of him, drew his left leg up – bringing his foot level with the ground, and began to push himself up, using the wall behind him as leverage.

As he rose, he moved his hands up the wall while pushing hard with his foot. The pain in his right leg predictably worsened, but it didn't seem quite as bad as it had the previous night; either that, or he was developing a tolerance to it. Still, it hurt, a lot, and he grimaced as he got himself to a standing position. Of course, that's when his head really started throbbing, and he had to stand still for a few moments with his hand on the wall for support.

At last the pain in his head diminished to a dull ache and he turned to face the dirt wall. _Maybe I can pull myself up with my arms._ He grabbed the wall with both hands and tried to dig his fingers in, but his gloves were making it difficult, so he pulled them off, tossed them to the ground and tried again. This time he got a good grip, but when he started to pull himself up, his fingers slid right into the wall and his hands slipped off, leaving him with nothing but two handfuls of dirt.

Frustrated, he tried again, but was met with the same result; the dirt was too soft to support his weight. _Dang it! How am I supposed to get out of here?_ As he stood there on his one good leg, leaning against the wall, he did the only thing he could think of; he tilted his face up and began yelling.

"Hey, is anyone up there? Can you hear me? I'm down here, in this hole… Please, can anyone hear me? I need help; I can't get out of here by myself! Hello? Is anyone there?"

Carter stopped to listen, but didn't hear anything. He tried again, but got no response. After a few more attempts, he had to quit; his throat was becoming very dry. _I sure could use a drink of water,_ he thought miserably.

Feeling defeated, he braced himself against the wall and slid carefully down to his original sitting position. Pain shot through his leg as he sat, and he let out a groan. Once seated, he brought his hands up and cradled his face. _What am I going to do?_

* * *

As the day wore on, Carter sat there at the bottom of the pit, his despair growing with each passing hour. Every so often he would call out for help until his throat got too dry and scratchy, but his cries went unanswered.

At one point in the late afternoon, he was running his hand along the ground next to him and, feeling movement, grabbed his flashlight and pointed it downward. There was an earthworm crawling slowly across the dirt; a rather large one, at that. He picked it up and, as he turned it over in his hand, a memory came back to him; a summer from his youth that he had spent with his Sioux cousin, Angry Rabbit Who Has Thorn in Cottontail. They'd been playing outside, picking up things they found on the ground and examining them, when Carter (or, better known to his cousin as, Little Deer Who Goes Swift and Sure Through Forest), came upon a big, juicy earthworm. He showed it to his cousin, who promptly dared him to eat it. "No way!" he'd said, and had tossed it back on the ground.

But looking at the worm now, Carter wondered if he should try it. His hunger had grown along with his thirst and, although his thirst was winning at the moment, his stomach was feeling pretty empty.

Making up his mind, he brushed the dirt off of the worm as best he could, and popped it into his mouth. As soon as he felt it move on his tongue, he made a face and spat it back out, _Blech!_ "Ugh, that's terrible!" he said as he put the worm back on the ground and let it go on its merry way. "No, I don't think I'll ever be hungry enough to eat one of those."

More hours went by, and the day faded into night. After a few more attempts to get anyone's attention, Carter resigned himself to spending another night in his earthy prison. He was starting to get scared that he'd never get out of there, but he tried to hold out hope that at least Newkirk might find him. The Englishman should have some idea where he was; after all, they'd come out to this area together. _Newkirk, I hope you're looking for me…_

Carter lay back down on his side and closed his eyes. He pulled his jacket tight around him and, after a long while wrestling with his thoughts, finally fell asleep.

* * *

"All right, fellas, let's go over the route one more time," Hogan said, addressing Kinch, LeBeau and Newkirk.

They were down in the tunnel after having spent a long day anxiously waiting for news of Carter, and receiving none. The guards still hadn't found him, so Hogan was making good on his promise from earlier in the day.

The men were huddled around the map on the table, and Hogan was pointing to a spot just outside of camp. "After we exit the emergency tunnel, we'll meet up here. We'll make our way to this area," he moved his hand along the map, "Near where the missile plant is. Newkirk, you'll lead the way, since you were there last night." Hogan looked up at the men to emphasize his next point. "We're gonna need to be extra careful, the woods are still crawling with guards."

"Yes, sir," they answered, almost in unison.

"All right, is everyone ready?" Hogan asked.

"More than ready, Colonel," Newkirk replied impatiently.

"Then let's go," Hogan said, and with that, the group headed down the tunnel, up through the hollow tree stump, and out into the night beyond.


	4. An Unexpected Deadline

It was shortly before morning roll call when Hogan, Kinch, LeBeau and Newkirk returned to the tunnel under Barracks Two, having successfully evaded the guards who were patrolling the woods around the camp. They'd been unsuccessful; however, in finding Carter, even after an all-night exhaustive search up and down the trail leading to the missile plant.

Newkirk looked the most dejected, feeling more and more that it was his fault for leaving Carter. But what else could he have done? He'd really thought the American sergeant had headed back to camp after not meeting up with him.

Still, that did little to assuage Newkirk's growing guilt. He turned to Hogan, who was behind him, waiting for him to climb the ladder up to the barracks, and asked with desperation in his voice, "Blimey, Colonel, where could he be?"

"I don't know," Hogan said, worry filling his face. The bags under his eyes from the lack of sleep for the past two nights revealed just how exhausted he was.

Newkirk wasn't looking much better. He climbed up the ladder and walked over by the table where LeBeau and Kinch were standing. Hogan, the last one up, headed for his quarters and gestured to his men to follow.

"All right," Hogan said, once they were all in his quarters and the door had been shut, "After roll call, I want the three of you to go straight to your bunks and get some shuteye. We're not going to do anyone any good if we drop dead from exhaustion."

"What about you, sir?" Kinch asked, "No offense, Colonel, but you look like you're about to drop, yourself."

"Don't worry about me, Kinch, I'm planning to get some sleep, myself. We can't go looking for Carter during the day, anyway."

"Colonel, does that mean we'll be going out again tonight?" Newkirk asked hopefully.

Hogan nodded. "Yes, that's why I want you all to get some rest today, so we'll be fresher when we go look for him again."

"But where should we look, Mon Colonel?" LeBeau asked, "We didn't find him along that trail… Where else could he be?"

"He's got to be somewhere near that bloomin' factory," Newkirk stated with conviction, "I still say he got lost and –"

"Maybe," LeBeau cut in, "But we can't search the whole forest!"

Newkirk frowned. "Louis, you're the one, what kept sayin' we'd find him… You're not giving up on him now, are you?"

"No, mon ami, I'm just saying –"

"All right, you two," Hogan interrupted, holding up his hand, "This isn't going to get us anywhere."

The sound of Schultz's voice bellowing through the barracks reached their ears, and they knew it was time for roll call.

"Look, we're all tired," Hogan said, "After we get some sleep, we'll come up with a plan to look for Carter, okay?"

The men nodded in agreement.

"Okay, let's go." Hogan ushered the men out of his quarters and followed them out.

As Newkirk joined the line of men exiting the barracks, an image formed in his mind of Carter lost somewhere in the woods, possibly hurt – or worse – and a fresh wave of worry and guilt coursed through him. _Oh Andrew, where are you?_ He thought, his fear rising, and then he inwardly shook his head. _No, I can't think that way; wherever he is, he's all right… He has to be!_ He inwardly sighed. _Don't worry, mate, we're comin' for you… we'll find you tonight, I just know it!_ But deep down, Newkirk felt a seed of doubt beginning to grow, and he knew right then that if anything terrible had happened to his American friend, he'd never forgive himself.

* * *

 _He's sleeping peacefully, when he hears a sound above him and opens his eyes. He looks up toward the opening of the hole he's trapped in and sees a face peering down, calling his name._

" _Andrew!" he hears the person yell down, and he recognizes him instantly._

" _Newkirk!" he calls out, "Boy, am I glad to see you! I'm stuck down here, and I can't get out!"_

" _Andrew, are you down there?"_

" _Yes, I'm here, Newkirk, can't you hear me?" he yells, now becoming fearful._

" _Andrew, where are you? I can't find you…"_

" _I'm here, I'm here! Newkirk, I'm down here!" he shouts as loudly as he can. As he stares upwards, Newkirk's face disappears, and now he starts to panic. "Wait, don't go! I'm here, I'm down here, please Newkirk, come back! Come back!"_

"Come back," Carter mumbled quietly as he slowly woke from his dream and opened his eyes; noting absently they were a little moister than usual. He lay there for a few minutes, trying to pull himself together, then let out a sigh and turned his head to look up.

It was daytime, but the sky was overcast and there was considerably less light filtering down to him than there had been the day before. The air was colder, too, and he felt himself shiver.

Once again he pushed himself up to a sitting position, clenching his teeth against the flare of pain in his leg caused by the movement. After scooting back against the dirt wall, he let out the breath he'd been holding and waited for the pain to return to the dull ache he'd become accustomed to.

 _I wonder what time it is,_ Carter thought as he sat there, and reached for the flashlight. When he shined it at his watch, he was surprised to see it read 8:30. _Funny, I thought it was earlier than that. Of course, I don't know what time I fell asleep, and since it's cloudy today, it's a lot darker down here…_

His thoughts were interrupted by the distant sound of thunder, and he frowned. _Oh, great, just what I need!_

As if the heavens themselves had read his mind, drops of rain began falling from above, pitter-pattering onto his jacket and dotting the material of his pants. A crack of thunder, louder this time, sounded across the sky, and he winced. _Jeez, now I'm going to get soaking wet…_

That thought reminded him of how incredibly thirsty he was. As the rain began to fall harder, he leaned his head back and tried to catch some with his mouth. He could only get a drop or two here and there, and all that managed to do was inflame his thirst even more.

 _Hey, I know…_ Carter stuck his hands out in front of him and cupped them together, trying to catch the rain that way. It worked, although it took a while for the water to accumulate enough for him to have something to drink, and even then it was barely a sip.

Frustrated, he glanced around the enclosed space, and then an idea hit him. He picked up the flashlight, unscrewed the cap and proceeded to dump the batteries out into his hand. He shoved them into his jacket pocket, then wedged the handle of the flashlight between his thighs with the opening pointed up, and held it securely with his legs while cupping his hands once again to catch what rainwater he could. _At least I'll have water to drink for later._

The rain was coming down hard now, and his legs were getting soaked. Fortunately his jacket was fairly rainproof, so his upper body was staying relatively dry. Except for his head, but as long as he kept it tilted down, he could keep the rain off his face, at least. He wished he still had his uniform cap, but he'd lost it when he fell. It was probably lying on the ground above, just beyond the rim, which did him no good at the moment.

A flash of lightning streaked across the sky above, giving him a momentary clear view of the space around him. It was pretty much how it had looked with the flashlight, but seeing the whole area lit up like that was a painful reminder of just how trapped he really was. _Please, fellas, you have to find me, I don't want to die down here!_

The thunder boomed, and the rain continued to pour down for the next fifteen minutes or so. Then the storm gradually moved off, leaving Carter half-soaked and sitting in the mud.

When the rain had stopped, he pulled up the flashlight and peered into it, but couldn't see how much water was in there. Tentatively he raised it to his lips and took a sip. It tasted funny and there wasn't much in there, but the little bit he drank helped somewhat to soothe his dry throat. He didn't drink all of it, deciding to save some for later. There was no telling if it would rain again soon.

Now that he'd had some water, his hunger flared anew. He sighed with frustration, then, tilting his head back, began calling for help again. He yelled until his voice started to give out, but didn't get any response.

There was no one around to hear him.

* * *

It was late afternoon when Hogan and his men – all of whom had finally gotten some much needed rest – slipped down into the tunnel to discuss their next plan for searching for Carter. They'd gathered around the map table, and Hogan was studying it as he talked.

"Okay, this is the area we checked last night," Hogan drew his hand along the section that contained the trail to the factory, "If Carter had been anywhere near there, I'm sure we would have found him."

"But, sir," Newkirk frowned, "We only looked along the trail. What if Carter wandered off and he's in the woods someplace nearby…"

"Newkirk," Hogan cut in, "LeBeau's right, we can't search the whole forest."

"Colonel, I really think me mate is somewhere here," Newkirk said, circling an area around the trail with his finger.

Hogan frowned. "That's still a pretty big area to search. What makes you so sure he's there, anyway?"

Newkirk shrugged, "Just a feeling, sir."

Hogan was the last person to dismiss a gut feeling. "Well, we could probably search some of that area tonight, but I'm afraid it's going to be like looking for a needle in a haystack…"

The Morse code receiver next to the radio equipment interrupted just then. Kinch walked over and sat down behind the table and, after grabbing some paper, began to write quickly.

The other three men wandered over, as well. Hogan waited patiently until Kinch was finished, and looked at him expectantly.

"It's from London, Colonel," Kinch said, addressing his C.O., "They want us to blow up that missile plant tonight; they said it's imperative we take care of it tonight."

"Did they say why it's so imperative?" Hogan asked.

"No, sir, just that it needs to be done right away."

"But Andre is still missing," LeBeau piped up, "We can't blow it up without him."

Hogan nodded. "Kinch, message them back; tell them we've got a man missing, and we can't complete the mission without him."

Kinch tapped out the message, and they all waited for the response. Moments later, the return message came through, and as Kinch wrote it down, his brow furrowed. "Colonel, they said that if we can't take care of it, they're going to send a squadron of bombers over tonight to do the job."

"Blimey, they can't do that!" Newkirk exclaimed, "If Carter's still anywhere near there, he'll be killed!"

"He's right," LeBeau agreed, "Mon Colonel, they have to give us a chance to find him…"

But Hogan was already on it. "Kinch, tell them they need to give us time to find our missing man, tell them when we do, we can take care of the plant ourselves."

Once again Kinch sent the message, and this time the air was filled with tension as they waited to find out what London would say. A few moments later, the response came back. After Kinch stopped writing, he looked at Hogan, his expression grim. "They said we have one day to find him. If we don't, they're going to send the bombers tomorrow night – and it's not negotiable."

Hogan frowned and folded his arms. "Then we're just gonna have to find him tonight."

* * *

The day wore on, the clouds rolled through, but no more rain fell, which – for Carter – was a mixed blessing. He would have liked to collect more water, but he was grateful for the chance to dry out a little.

Still, his pants remained damp well into the evening. His injured leg throbbed, but he scarcely paid it any attention. He was extremely thirsty, the few sips of rainwater had helped only briefly, and his stomach rumbled off and on, letting him know how empty it was.

His despair was growing, along with his thirst and hunger, and he began to realize he might never get out of there… _No, I can't think that way, the guys will find me, I'm sure they will!_ But his hope was fading fast, and he no longer really believed it.

Carter called out a few more times, but it yielded the same result as the last time, and the time before that… Nothing. He'd decided that he must be in the middle of nowhere, so the chance of anyone hearing him was slim to none, but he kept trying anyway… What else could he do?

After a bit he stopped, too tired and thirsty to go on. He didn't know what time it was, but it felt late, and he figured he might as well lie down and get some sleep. He picked up the flashlight which he'd been keeping upright next to his side, and drank the last few sips from in it. Then he got an idea and pulled the batteries from his pocket. He couldn't see which way to put them in, but after a few attempts, he was pretty sure he'd gotten them right.

After screwing on the top, Carter took a breath and flicked the switch. Surprisingly, the flashlight worked, and he let out an excited, "Yes!" He checked his watch then, and saw it was almost midnight. _No wonder I'm tired_ , he thought, and decided to lie back down on his side. He flicked off the flashlight but held onto it. _If the guys come looking for me, I'll hear them and I can shine it up there so they can find me._

Between the dampness and the darkness he was cold, so he curled up as much as he could and drew his coat tight around him. He lay there for a little while, trying not to think too much, trying to hang on to some shred of hope that someone would find him before it was too late. Eventually he drifted off to sleep – his only escape from the utter dread that was growing steadily inside him.

* * *

Late that evening, after roll call, Hogan and his men slipped out of camp and headed back towards the factory, keeping alert for the guards who were conducting their own search for the missing prisoner.

When they got to the area by the trail, they split into two groups, combing the woods, spreading out as far as they dared.

Newkirk and Kinch were checking an area just off the trail, when they thought they heard something. They froze, their ears straining in the darkness, but it was just a couple of squirrels chasing each other through the brush, scurrying past their feet and running up a tree, chittering loudly at one another. The two men glanced at each other, letting out a sigh of relief, then moved on to keep searching.

Several hours passed, and Newkirk and Kinch had still found no sign of Carter. When they met up with Hogan and LeBeau, they discovered Louis and the colonel hadn't had any luck, either.

Exhausted and dejected, the four men headed back to camp. Newkirk was particularly despondent; so sure they would find him this time. But they hadn't, and now they were running out of time. Somehow, they would have to convince London to hold off on the bombing so they could look for Carter again the next night.

And if they couldn't get London to change their plans, well, Newkirk was just going to come back to look for him, anyway.


	5. One Last Chance

"Colonel, you have to tell London to give us more bloomin' time," Newkirk said as he, Hogan, LeBeau and Kinch entered the main tunnel area underneath the barracks. After spending the night searching and still coming up empty, Newkirk wasn't about to give up looking for Carter, and he sure didn't want London bombing that missile plant before they could find him.

"I will, Newkirk," Hogan answered his English corporal, "But it'll have to wait until after roll call. Besides," he added, "I want to talk to Klink first."

"What for, sir?" Newkirk asked.

"Maybe I can get him to send some of his men over to that area we were searching… They might have better luck."

Newkirk nodded, "I hope so, Colonel."

The men went up to the barracks and, soon enough, Schultz came strolling in, shouting his usual morning announcement. The big German guard ushered everyone outside and they lined up for roll call. After counting the prisoners, Schultz took his position in front of them to wait for the Kommandant.

Minutes later, Klink stepped out of the Kommandantur and walked over, yelling, "Report!"

"Kommandant, all prisoners are accounted for," Schultz replied, "Except Sergeant Carter," he amended.

Klink stepped in front of Hogan and scowled. "Colonel Hogan, do you realize the trouble your sergeant is causing me? How am I supposed to maintain my no escape record with a prisoner missing!"

Hogan leaned forward slightly. "Colonel, about that… Could I talk to you in your office, privately?"

Klink narrowed his eyes briefly. Then he sighed and said, "Very well, Hogan." He glanced at the prisoners and shouted, "Dismissed!" Then turned on his heel and walked back to the Kommandantur, Hogan following him.

When they got inside, Klink entered his office, circled behind his desk and sat down. Hogan followed him inside, shutting the door behind him and, taking up a position in front of Klink's desk, stood opposite the seated German Colonel. He remained silent, staring intensely at the map on the wall behind Klink, which showed the town and surrounding area; having been placed there to aid in the search for Carter.

"Well, Hogan?" Klink asked impatiently, "What do you have to say about your missing man?"

"You know, Kommandant," Hogan replied, squinting at the map, "I think I know where you'll find Carter." He raised his hand and pointed at it.

"You do?" Klink jumped up and turned around, while Hogan circled the desk to stand next to him. Hogan pointed to a spot on the map and said, "There, Colonel… I'd bet money that Carter's hiding out in those woods right there."

Klink brought his hand up and stroked his chin as he stared at the map. Then he summarily dropped it and turned to look at the man standing next to him. "Hogan, it's been over two days; what makes you think your man would be there?" He pointed at the spot where Hogan's finger had been a moment ago.

Hogan shrugged. "Just a hunch, sir… I know that's where I'd hide out if the Germans were looking for me."

"Uh huh, uh huh," Klink nodded. Then he removed his hand from the map and pointed his finger at Hogan. "I know what you're doing, Hogan, you're trying to misdirect me. Telling me Sergeant Carter is there so my men will look in the wrong place, which will give your man more time to get away!"

Hogan's eyes widened. "Colonel Klink, I would never do that! We want him back as badly as you do!"

Klink smirked at him. "Nice try, Colonel Hogan," he said and pointed to the door, "Get out!"

"But, sir..."

"Out, Hogan!" Klink shouted.

Hogan frowned. He turned and reluctantly walked out of Klink's office.

"So much for that," he muttered as he crossed the compound and entered the barracks. He was met by anxious stares as he walked inside.

"Colonel, what did Klink say?" LeBeau was the first to ask.

Hogan frowned and crossed his arms in front of him. "He didn't fall for it."

"Well, then, we'll just have to go out again tonight, won't we, sir?" Newkirk said.

Hogan nodded. "I'll contact London and get them to hold off on those bombers." He dropped his arms and headed for the false bottom bunk. "C'mon, Kinch," he called out to his radioman.

After the two men had climbed down into the tunnel, LeBeau turned to Newkirk.

"What if London won't call it off?" he said worriedly.

Newkirk plopped down on the bench next to the table. "They'd better, Louis," he replied. _And if they don't, I'm going out there and ruddy look for him, meself._

* * *

 _He's in the field near his home, only this time he's not alone. Colonel Hogan is there, along with Kinch, LeBeau, and Newkirk. They're smiling and talking about simple things, everyday things; food, sports, movies, even girls… And then the conversation changes and it's who wants to go out on the next mission, what kind of factory is out there, how to evade the German patrol, and suddenly the ground gives way underneath him and he's falling and falling… He reaches up to grab Newkirk's outstretched hand but it's too late and he misses, and he keeps falling, falling…_

Carter jerked awake, subconsciously bracing his hand against the ground to catch himself. He opened his eyes, noting the scant light filtering down to him, and turned his head to look up. It was daytime again, and the sky was clear and bright this time. He laid his head back down, trying to summon the will to sit up.

 _Oh, what's the use, there's nobody up there, anyway,_ was his first thought. He took in a breath and let out a long sigh. _I gotta keep trying, I can't give up yet._

Once again Carter pushed himself up, steadying himself when a wave of dizziness passed over him. As soon as he was sitting, he scooted backward slightly and leaned against the dirt wall, trying to take stock of his condition.

His mouth was bone dry and his stomach ached from hunger. His leg throbbed, he felt weak and still slightly dizzy. He didn't know what time it was, but he no longer cared.

Carter glanced down and saw the flashlight lying on the ground next to him. He picked it up and unscrewed the top; then dumped the batteries onto his lap and brought the handle to his lips. He leaned his head back, hoping for a few more drops of water to be left inside, but nothing came out.

Frustrated, Carter threw the flashlight against the wall. When a voice inside his head reminded him that he might still need it, he mumbled sarcastically, "Yeah, yeah, I'll put it back together later." Just trying to talk made his throat burn. _Guess I won't be doing any more yelling._

His stomach rumbled just then, and his thoughts turned to food. _Boy, what I wouldn't give for some of LeBeau's cooking right now. Heck, I'd even eat a bowl of that mush we had for breakfast…_ Just thinking about it made his stomach growl. _How many days ago was that?_ He tried to remember how long he'd been down there, but it was fuzzy _._ Two days? Three?

 _Oh, what does it matter, I'm gonna die down here._ An intense wave of despair swept through him, and he hung his head, wanting to cry but too dehydrated for the tears to fall. _No one's ever gonna find me…_

His hope fading away, Carter lay back down, closed his eyes, and wrapped his arms around himself. There was nothing left to do.

* * *

Kinch spend the better part of the day trying to contact London. It was almost evening before they finally replied, and he let Hogan take over the conversation, going up top to give him privacy.

Hogan started out with his diplomacy intact, but words quickly became heated – Hogan arguing his point, London unwilling to yield. At last Hogan had their final answer, and he climbed up to the barracks to break the news to his men.

Once they were in the colonel's quarters, Hogan crossed his arms and looked at Kinch, LeBeau and Newkirk, a grim expression on his face. "Sorry fellas, no luck with London; I couldn't get them to change their mind."

"What?" LeBeau exclaimed, "Mon Colonel, how can they do this?"

"Yeah," Newkirk replied angrily, "Don't they know how important Andrew is to us? We couldn't do half those bleedin' missions they give us without him!"

"Not to mention he's our friend," LeBeau added, his voice full of emotion. The other men nodded.

"Yeah, sir," Kinch said, "That's pretty low…"

Hogan held up his hand. "You don't have to sell me, fellas, I agree with you… And so does London."

"Then, why, Colonel?" Newkirk asked plaintively, "Why won't they call off the bombing?"

Hogan let out a sigh. "I don't know, they won't tell me. Apparently they've decided I don't have a 'need to know'. They're bombing that missile plant tonight, and that's that."

"And what about Carter?"

Hogan uncrossed his arms, reached over and placed his hand on the English corporal's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Newkirk, but we're gonna have to wait until tomorrow night to look for him again."

Newkirk looked at Hogan, his eyes filling with anger. "Well, I'm not waitin'," he stated resolutely.

Hogan saw the determination in Newkirk's eyes. He dropped his hand and glanced at the other two men in the room. "Kinch, LeBeau, give us a few minutes."

"Yes, sir," Kinch said, turning to leave. LeBeau followed him out, and once the door was shut, Hogan turned his attention to the Englishman.

"Newkirk, I can't let you go out there tonight."

"Sir, I'm not leavin' me mate Carter out there to get killed," Newkirk replied stubbornly.

Hogan frowned. "You don't even know if you'll find him…"

"I have to try!"

Hogan took in a breath and exhaled audibly. "Newkirk, don't you think I want us to go look for him? I'm as mad about this as you are. But I can't go against London's orders, and neither can you." He could see by the look on Newkirk's face that he wasn't swayed, so he tried a different tact. "Why are you so sure he's in those woods, anyway?"

Newkirk shrugged. "I can't explain it, sir; I just know he's there."

Hogan studied him a moment. "Well, if he is, we'll just have to hope he survives the bombing raid."

Newkirk's eyes flashed with anger. "Sir, I'm going out tonight to find Andrew, with or without London's permission."

Hogan frowned at him. "No, you're not. Besides," he added, his voice softening, "I can't afford to lose you."

"You won't, Colonel, I can handle meself. I've got to find Carter –"

"I said no," Hogan cut him off, becoming angry now.

"But, Colonel…"

"You're not going out there to look for him, and that's an order!" Hogan shouted.

The two men glared at each other for a moment. Then Newkirk backed down, letting his anger drain away. "Yes, sir," he replied, casting his gaze to the floor.

Hogan once again reached up and gripped Newkirk's shoulder. "I'm sorry," he said softly, "I know you're still blaming yourself, but you gotta believe it wasn't your fault."

Newkirk let out a sigh. "I know that, sir."

"Then you also know Carter can be pretty tough when he needs to be."

Newkirk just nodded.

There was a knock at the door just then, and Hogan dropped his hand and called out, "Come in."

Kinch walked in, followed by LeBeau. "Sorry to interrupt, sir," Kinch said, "But I just got a message from London." He looked down at the piece of paper he was holding. "They said, in regards to our missing man, they'll hold off bombing the plant until 0500 tomorrow morning to give us a chance to look for him. That's the best they can do."

"It's better than nothing," Hogan said, "Tell London message received, and thanks."

"Yes, sir," Kinch replied; then turned around and left.

"Well, how about that?" Newkirk's face brightened, his mouth curving into a smile.

"Does that mean we can go look for him, Colonel?" LeBeau asked hopefully.

"Yes, we can," Hogan replied, looking relieved himself, "But we have to be back in camp well before those bombers fly over."

The two men nodded. "Yes, sir," LeBeau replied.

"All right," Hogan said to them, "Let's go get ready; we'll leave after roll call."

The men filed out of Hogan's quarters and into the main barracks, hoping the evening roll call didn't take too long. The sooner they could get back out there to look for Carter, the better.

* * *

Carter dozed off and on throughout the day, barely stirring. As it got dark, he blinked his eyes open. There was something he was supposed to do, but he couldn't quite remember what it was. He stared out into the darkness, his sense of urgency growing.

He reached his arm out and fumbled around, his hand coming to rest on the handle of the flashlight. He grabbed it and pulled it close; then, raising his head, picked up one of the batteries which was lying on the ground further down by his leg and dropped it into the flashlight. He did the same with the other battery and fumbled around again to find the top. After he screwed it on, he flicked the switch.

Suddenly there was light illuminating the area around him, and he had to squint his eyes briefly before they adjusted to it.

Carter lay his head back down and held the handle perpendicular against his body so that it was shining straight up. Then he closed his eyes and eventually drifted off.

* * *

"Okay, you guys ready?" Hogan asked as he and his men prepared to sneak out of camp.

"Yes, sir," they all said, each grabbing a flashlight and stuffing it into their pockets.

"All right, here's the plan," Hogan said, "Once we get out to those woods, we'll cover as much ground as we can that we haven't searched yet. Whether we find him or not, we meet back up at the rendezvous point at exactly 0300 and head back to camp. Got it?"

The men nodded.

"Don't worry, sir," Newkirk piped up, "We'll find him this time; I feel it in me bones!"

"I hope you're right, Newkirk," Hogan replied, "Let's go."

The four men headed down the tunnel and out the hollow tree stump. They made their way back to the forest near the missile plant and began to search; this time Hogan and Kinch went one way, Newkirk and LeBeau the other.

Several hours passed, and still they'd found nothing, although LeBeau and Newkirk did discover a dirt road farther back in the woods, running along a parallel course – more or less – with the trail they'd been using.

Still, there was no sign of Carter, and it was time to meet up with Hogan and Kinch. LeBeau was walking in front, Newkirk following behind. They were almost to the rendezvous point, when LeBeau turned around and noticed Newkirk was gone.

"Newkirk!" LeBeau whispered fiercely, but there was no answer. He knew he didn't have time to look for him and, seeing no other option, turned back and hurried to the rendezvous point, relieved to see Hogan and Kinch waiting for him when he got there.

Hogan saw LeBeau arrive and waved him over. He glanced around and asked quietly, "Where's Newkirk?"

"I don't know, Mon Colonel," LeBeau replied, catching his breath, "We were on our way here, and suddenly when I turned around, he was gone!"

Hogan looked at Kinch, a frown forming on his face. "I bet he decided to keep looking for Carter on his own." He shook his head, "Of all the stubborn, pig-headed, hair-brained ideas Newkirk's ever had…"

"You want us to go look for him, sir?" Kinch asked.

Hogan sighed in frustration. "No, we'll probably never find him in time. We've gotta head back to camp… Hopefully he'll come back before those bombers get here."

Reluctantly, the three men took off down the trail, all of them keenly aware that they were now down by two.

* * *

Newkirk had been following LeBeau, but about halfway back, he'd jogged to the left and hid behind a tree until the Frenchman's footsteps were long gone. He knew he was disobeying orders, but he couldn't help it. He figured he still had another hour, at least, and he was determined to find Carter, even if it meant waiting until the last possible second to get out of there.

Newkirk crept back to the trail, this time to a spot nearer the plant. He started looking around while keeping his ears open for a patrol, when something caught his eye. _Hello, hello, I don't remember seein' this before…_

There was a path that intersected with the one he was following, and he stared at it for a moment. _I wonder if Andrew found this, and got mixed up…_

Newkirk looked first one way, and then the other. After mentally flipping a coin, he picked a direction and began to follow it. Before long he came upon a small clearing, the path he was on leading right through it. As he walked into the open space, he saw a curious thing. There was a faint glow of light rising up from the ground ahead of him. He stepped closer, shining his flashlight at the ground when, directly in front of him, he saw something that looked like a small bundle of cloth. He reached down and picked it up, his eyes widening when he realized what it was. _Carter's cap!_

He looked up again at that odd, weak ray of light shooting up right in front of him and shined his flashlight around its base. There was nothing there; just a dark, cavernous opening into the ground.

Newkirk inched closer, peering down into the opening and, seeing only blackness, shined his light into it. He could tell it went quite a ways down – fifty, maybe sixty feet, he guessed. He could also see a tiny pinprick of light at the bottom, which looked very much like the top of a flashlight. He shone his own light at it, slowly sweeping it around the bottom and, after squinting his eyes, could just make out a figure lying down there…

 _Carter!_

"Andrew!" he yelled down, "Andrew, is that you? Andrew, answer me!"

Newkirk stopped to listen, and thought he could just make out a faint moan.

 _He's alive!_

Relief mixed with fear cascaded through Newkirk's body as he shouted down to his friend, "Hang on, Andrew! I've got to go get help, don't worry, mate, we'll get you out of there, I promise!"

Newkirk stood up and, clutching Carter's cap, took off for Stalag 13 at a dead run.


	6. To the Rescue

It was 03:45 in the morning when Hogan, LeBeau and Kinch returned to camp, climbing down into the tunnel and stopping in the main area underneath the barracks. None of them had said a word on the way back, and now Hogan began to pace, letting his anger and frustration out at last.

"Newkirk better be back here soon," Hogan muttered as he strode across the floor – LeBeau and Kinch wisely staying out of the way and keeping their mouths shut – "I swear, that man is going to give me gray hair…" Hogan paused as he turned around, then started up again, "I should have known he would disobey me…"

There was a noise coming from the end of the tunnel, and Hogan froze. All eyes turned to stare toward the sound of footsteps coming closer, when suddenly Newkirk appeared and the men breathed a collective sigh of relief.

"Newkirk!" Hogan started yelling, "Just what do you think you were doing, running off like that, disobeying a direct order –"

"You can discipline me later, Colonel," Newkirk cut him off, "I found him! I found Andrew!" He stopped for a couple of seconds to catch his breath, "He's trapped in the ground," he continued, "Down a hole, looks to be 60 feet deep. He's in a bad way… Sir, we have to go get him right now, we don't have much time!"

"Mon Dieu!" LeBeau exclaimed, "Poor Andre! Colonel, Newkirk is right; we have to save him!"

Hogan checked his watch. "Newkirk's also right about not having much time." He looked up at the Englishman, "Where did you find him? How close is he to that plant?"

Newkirk knew what Hogan meant. "Close enough," he stated grimly.

Hogan frowned. "It'll take us close to an hour to get back there. By the time we do, we won't have enough time to get him out before the bombers arrive."

"Colonel, what if we take a truck from the motor pool?" Kinch piped up.

"That's right!" Newkirk remembered, "Louis and I found a dirt road, what leads through the forest; it should pass near the spot where Andrew's trapped."

Hogan nodded. "All right," he said as he headed quickly to the ladder, the men right behind him, "Kinch, go get the truck. Newkirk, we'll need a long rope. LeBeau, grab a canteen and fill it with water; Carter's been down there for three days, he'll need it." Hogan glanced at his men as he climbed up, "I'll go get Schultz; he can drive."

"Yes, sir," they all answered as they followed Hogan up to the barracks. When they reached the top, the men scattered, each hurrying to perform their assigned task.

Ten minutes later they were ready to go. Kinch, Hogan and LeBeau hopped into the back of the truck, while Newkirk took the passenger seat so he could direct Schultz. The German guard climbed into the driver's seat, still protesting, but at least Hogan had been able to convince him to help them save Carter.

"I still don't understand why you didn't want me to wake the Kommandant and have him send some of the guards," Schultz groused as he turned the key in the ignition.

"And just how were we supposed to explain how we found Carter in the first place, Schultzie?" Newkirk countered.

Schultz shook his head as he put the truck in gear and started driving out of camp. "I don't even know why I ask," he muttered to himself.

The drive took about 20 minutes, Schultz having to double back once when Newkirk missed the turn, but the Englishman had sharp eyes and a sharper memory, and found the dirt road the second time without any more problems.

"Here, Schultz," Newkirk said as they neared the spot that ran parallel to where Carter was trapped, "This is good."

Schultz brought the truck to a stop and turned the key in the ignition to off. He remained seated in the driver's seat, since it had already been decided he would wait with the truck. Newkirk jumped out of the passenger side, while Hogan and the others hopped out the back, Kinch grabbing the rope and LeBeau carrying the canteen slung around his neck. Newkirk waved at them to follow, and took off up the small rise next to the road.

Luckily it wasn't far to the hole where Carter was trapped. Newkirk held up his hand as he neared, shining his flashlight along the ground. This time there was no light coming up from the bottom of the pit, and he could only assume Carter's flashlight had died.

Hogan walked up next to Newkirk and peered down into the hole where the Englishman was shining his light. He let out a low whistle and said in a quiet voice, "That's pretty deep," then he waved Kinch and LeBeau over. "One of us needs to go down there and get him."

"I'll do it, Colonel," Newkirk replied without hesitation.

Hogan nodded, "I thought you would. Okay, Kinch, LeBeau and I will hold the rope from up here. Newkirk, you climb down and tie it around Carter; we'll haul him up, then we'll toss the rope back down and pull you up."

"Sounds like a plan, sir," Newkirk said as he grabbed the end of the rope Kinch handed him and started feeding it down into the hole.

When the bulk of rope had been lowered – all but what was needed for Hogan, Kinch and LeBeau to hang on to – Newkirk sat down at the edge of the hole, dangling his legs over the side. Then he tucked his flashlight into his belt, grabbed the rope and started to lower himself, repelling against the wall down to the bottom.

When he got there, he placed one foot gingerly on the ground, keeping it close to the wall, and pulled the flashlight out of his belt. He shined it at the figure stretched out next to his foot and audibly gasped. "Andrew!" he called out, lowering his other foot and letting go of the rope. He squatted over the sergeant, who was turned away from him lying on his right side and, fighting back his growing panic, he placed his hand on Carter's neck, feeling for a pulse. It was there, and relief flooded through him, quickly turning to concern when he noticed how weak it was.

Newkirk moved his hand to Carter's shoulder and shook it gently. "Andrew, wake up, can you hear me, mate? I'm gettin' you out of here…"

Carter let out a moan and slowly blinked his eyes open. He noticed he could see, and turned his head in the direction of the light which seemed to be coming from behind him.

"Andrew," Newkirk frowned, seeing how pale Carter was, "It's me, Andrew, your ol' chum Newkirk, here to get you out of this bleedin' hole."

Carter squinted at him, a confused expression on his face. After a moment he asked in a small, scratchy voice, "Newkirk? Is that really you? Or am I dreaming again?"

Newkirk smiled at him, "You're not dreamin', mate, it's me, all right."

"Really?" Carter replied, his voice a little stronger, filling with hope.

"Really," Newkirk confirmed.

"You're really here…" Carter smiled weakly. Then his eyes widened slightly and he asked, "Do you have any water?"

"LeBeau's got some waitin' for you at the top," Newkirk reassured him, patting his shoulder. "C'mon, we've got to get you out of here, we haven't got much time." He moved his hand around to Carter's upper back to help support him and asked, "Can you get up?"

Carter shook his head slightly. "I don't think so, Newkirk, see, I've got a broken leg…" his voice trailed off as he pointed at it.

Newkirk shined his flashlight where Carter was pointing, and winced when he saw the misshapen lower half of his leg. "Oh, Andrew, you're a right mess," he sighed.

"Hey, down there!"

Newkirk and Carter both heard Hogan's voice filtering down from above.

"Hurry up, Newkirk!" Hogan yelled, "We've only got 20 minutes!"

"Right, sir!" Newkirk yelled back. He stood up and grabbed the rope, then, putting one foot on either side of the injured sergeant; he leaned down and ran the end of the rope underneath Carter's back. He brought it up the other side and tied it tight; making sure the rope was snug under Carter's armpits.

"What are you doing?" Carter asked, looking confused again.

"What do you think I'm doin'? Andrew?" Newkirk replied impatiently, "I'm tying this bloomin' rope around you so the colonel and LeBeau and Kinch can pull you out."

"Oh, sorry," Carter said.

Newkirk sighed. "No, I'm sorry, mate, it's just… We've got to get a move on; time's running out."

"Running out for what?"

Newkirk flashed him a small smile. "Don't you worry about it, Andrew. Now," Newkirk reached down and circled his arms around Carter's chest, "We've got to get you up…" He grunted as he pulled Carter up, feeling the sergeant grab onto his upper arms as he hoisted Carter to his feet.

A wave of dizziness washed over Carter, and he gripped Newkirk's arms tighter. "Unngh," he groaned, fighting the lightheadedness that had joined in, now threatening to overwhelm him.

Newkirk didn't wait to see if Carter could stand on his good leg. He shifted him up against the dirt wall and, tilting his face upwards, yelled loudly, "Okay, pull!"

Hogan heard him and signaled to LeBeau and Kinch. As the three men began pulling the rope from above, Newkirk held onto Carter until the sergeant started rising up from the ground. "Hang on," he told him as he let go, worried now at the expression on Carter's face; the man looked like he was about to pass out.

Carter was indeed fighting to stay conscious. As he was pulled upward, his broken leg bumped against the dirt wall and he grimaced, moaning from the sudden jolt of pain. But the pain helped him focus, and he gripped the rope around him and held tight.

Newkirk stood at the bottom, following Carter's progress with his flashlight, relieved to hear a few grunts and moans coming from the sergeant; at least Carter was still awake. He kept the light on him until he reached the top, then, while he waited for the guys to pull Carter out and toss the rope back down, he swept the beam of his flashlight along the ground around him. The light reflected off something metallic, and Newkirk noticed it was the flashlight Carter had used to signal him. _No sense letting it go to waste,_ he thought as he picked it up and shoved it into his pocket.

Up top, Carter's head finally appeared just over the rim, and while LeBeau and Kinch held onto the rope, Hogan hurried over and grabbed Carter under his arms, pulling him out the rest of the way. "Watch the leg," Carter managed to get out, grabbing onto Hogan's arm and gritting his teeth.

Hogan laid Carter down gently just beyond the opening of the hole and kneeled next to him. He glanced at Carter's legs and immediately noticed that the right one was bent at an odd angle below the knee. Masking his concern, he looked back at Carter. "Don't worry, we'll get you fixed up," he told him reassuringly and began to untie the rope around him. When he was done, he patted Carter on the shoulder. "Glad to have you with us," he smiled at him and stood up. Turning to Kinch, who was now standing next to him, he said, "C'mon, let's get Newkirk out of there."

Hogan walked up to the hole and tossed the end of the rope down. He waited for a moment, until he heard Newkirk's voice call out from below, "Got it!" Then he, LeBeau and Kinch once again pulled on the rope. It went faster this time, Newkirk helping the process along by pulling himself up as the rope rose.

As soon as Newkirk's head appeared, Hogan once again went over and this time helped his English corporal climb out. While Kinch gathered up the rope, LeBeau knelt down next to Carter and pulled the canteen strap off from around his neck. "Mon ami, you must be thirsty," he said as he unscrewed the cap.

"You bet I am," Carter replied weakly.

LeBeau slipped his hand under Carter's head and raised it up while bringing the canteen to his lips. Cool liquid entered Carter's parched mouth and ran down his aching throat, and he swallowed eagerly, drinking it in, sighing in relief while raising his hands to clutch at the canteen.

Hogan brought his arm up to look at his watch and could just make out the time in the darkness. "Fellas, we need to go, now," he stated with an air of urgency.

LeBeau nodded and pulled the canteen away from Carter, who desperately tried to hang onto it. "Don't worry, Andre, you can have more once we are on the truck." Carter let go, looking disappointed. LeBeau screwed the cap back on and slung the canteen around his neck.

"Okay, a couple of us will have to carry Carter," Hogan said, but before he could decide who to assign, Kinch stepped up.

"I got him, sir," he said, leaning down and shoving his arms under Carter; one underneath his back and the other underneath his thighs. Kinch lifted Carter up, being as careful as he could with Carter's broken leg.

Carter moaned as pain shot through his leg, then wrapped his arm around Kinch's neck and held on.

Hogan started back to the truck, the rest of the guys following right behind. As they came over the rise and caught sight of it, they heard a sound in the distance, a sound that was rapidly growing; the sound of planes headed their way.

"Come on!" Hogan yelled, sprinting the last several yards to the truck. When they got there, Hogan pulled the tail gate down and Kinch laid Carter down in the back of the truck, climbing in next to him. Newkirk and LeBeau followed, and Hogan closed the tail gate and ran for the passenger side.

"Schultz, go!" Hogan shouted as he climbed into the truck, acutely aware of the planes, now roaring into view over the horizon.

Schultz didn't hesitate; he started up the truck and turned it around, then headed back the way they'd come, picking up speed as he went.

The bombers flew over, dropping their payload. The sound of missiles falling filled the air, and the guys in the back of the truck stared out, too terrified to look away. Their eyes grew wide as the missiles hit their target, the noise deafening as explosions ripped through the plant, fireballs rising up, turning the darkness into day.

The truck bounced along, racing away from the destruction, and when they realized they'd made it out in the nick of time, they all breathed a huge sigh of relief.


	7. Safe At First

A/N: Sorry this chapter took so long; I got sidetracked with the SSSW challenge.

* * *

As Schultz drove the truck towards Stalag 13, he tried not to pay too much attention to what was going on behind him; too scared to even look in the rear view mirror. He kept his foot planted on the accelerator, driving as fast as he dared, until they were far enough away from the noise and fireballs that he felt he could ease up a little. He finally found his voice and asked, "Colonel Hogan, what just happened?"

Hogan, who was seated next to him in the cab of the truck, turned his head to look at him. "Do you really want to know, Schultz?"

"Nein! I know nothing!" Schultz quickly responded, shaking his head.

"Trust me, you're better off…" Hogan paused, his thoughts turning to how they were going to explain Carter's appearance back at camp.

As if he'd read the American officer's mind, Schultz asked, "Colonel Hogan, what are you going to do about Carter?"

Hogan's eyes widened slightly as an idea formed. "We're not gonna do anything, Schultz, you are."

Schultz frowned. "Me and my big mouth," he muttered. "Colonel Hogan, please, you're going to get me into trouble."

"Aw, c'mon, Schultz, don't you trust me?"

Schultz shot Hogan a sideways glance. He let out a big sigh and said, "What do you want me to do?"

* * *

In the rear of the truck, Newkirk had taken a seat on the floor and was supporting Carter's upper body on his lap. Kinch sat next to him, while LeBeau knelt on the other side, holding the canteen to the injured man's lips. Carter had latched onto the Frenchman's wrist, trying to help hold his hand steady. He managed to get a few sips of water here and there, but each bounce of the truck jerked the canteen away from his mouth and sent pain shooting through his leg, causing him to inadvertently squeeze LeBeau's wrist tightly until it subsided.

The truck hit a particularly large pothole in the road, and LeBeau winced from Carter's sudden crushing grip. "Take it easy, mon ami," he said to him, not unkindly, "I might need that arm later."

"Sorry," Carter murmured, consciously loosening his vise-like grip on LeBeau's wrist.

LeBeau smiled reassuringly at him, "It's okay, Andre, I know you are in pain." He looked up and glanced between Newkirk and Kinch, his smile fading, "Do either of you know how we are supposed to get Carter back in camp?"

"I'm sure the Colonel does," Kinch answered, "Or at least, he will by the time we get there."

"I hope you're right, mate," Newkirk muttered.

The truck bounded along and, as it neared Stalag 13, began to slow down. It stopped just beyond view of the main gate and Hogan jumped out, walking quickly to the rear of the truck. "All right, fellas," he said, poking his head into the back and glancing at his men, "This is where we get out."

"What, all of us?" Newkirk asked, confused.

"Just you, LeBeau and Kinch," Hogan replied, "Carter stays in the truck."

"By himself?" asked LeBeau.

Hogan nodded. "Schultz is gonna drive him into camp, and say he found him at the bottom of a ravine not far from here."

LeBeau frowned, "But Schultz wasn't one of the guards out searching for him."

"Can he help it if he felt bad for Carter, and decided to look for him on his own?" Hogan winked.

Kinch smiled, "Clever, sir; I knew you'd come up with something." He stood up and moved to the rear of the truck while LeBeau put the cap back on the canteen and screwed it shut.

"Do you guys really have to leave?" Carter asked in a small voice, still clutching LeBeau's wrist.

"Only for a little while," LeBeau assured him as he extricated his arm from Carter's grasp and slung the canteen over his shoulder, "Don't worry, Andre, everything will be all right."

"Yeah, Andrew," Newkirk said, "Schultzie's just going to drive you into camp, and then we'll be right back to get you out of the truck." He slid his legs out from under Carter while supporting him with his hands, gently lowering him onto the floor of the truck when he was finished.

"Yeah, I know," Carter sighed, "It's just that, I don't want to be alone again..."

Newkirk smiled at him. "You're not, mate; we've got you. Don't worry."

Carter managed a small smile in return. "Thanks, Newkirk."

Newkirk patted Carter's shoulder; then he got up and followed Kinch and LeBeau out of the truck and, together with Hogan, they took off through the trees, making a beeline for the hollow tree stump.

Schultz put the truck in gear and drove it into the compound, stopping in front of the Kommandantur. He got out and, as he hurried to Klink's quarters, began shouting, "Kommandant, I found him! I found the missing prisoner!"

When he reached the door, it flew open from the inside. Klink stood there, half-dressed, wiping his face with a towel. "Schultz, what are you yelling about?" He asked crossly.

"Kommandant, I found Sergeant Carter, he's in the back of the truck," he pointed to the vehicle parked next to Klink's office, "He's badly injured."

" _You_ found him, Schultz?" Klink's brow furrowed, "But you weren't even assigned to look for him."

Schultz swallowed hard. "I know, sir, but I felt sorry for him, so I thought I would search for him in my spare time."

Klink opened his mouth, about to say something, when the door to Barracks Two opened and Hogan stepped out. The American Colonel took one look at the truck, glanced toward Klink's quarters where the Kommandant and Schultz were standing, and hurried over.

""What's all the commotion, sir?" Hogan asked as he neared, "My men and I were getting ready for roll call when we heard shouting."

Klink grinned smugly. "It seems Sergeant Schultz here found your missing man, Hogan," he said, waving his hand in the German guard's direction.

"Really?" Hogan's eyebrows rose, "Where is he?"

"In the truck," Schultz once again pointed to it, "And he's injured, Colonel Hogan."

"He is?" Hogan's expression quickly changed to concern. "Kommandant, may I have a few of my men come over to take Sergeant Carter to the infirmary?"

"Very well, Hogan," Klink nodded, "But when you're finished, I want you all back here for roll call."

"Yes, sir," Hogan threw him a salute, then turned and strode quickly toward the truck, gesturing with his hand to the two men who were watching from the barracks door. Newkirk and Kinch came over to join him; the three of them congregating at the back of the truck.

Hogan let down the tailgate, and Newkirk and Kinch climbed in. They bent down next to Carter, slid their arms underneath him and lifted him gently. "See, I told you we'd be right back," Newkirk whispered to him as they carried him to the end of the truck. They set Carter down briefly on the lowered tailgate before jumping to the ground, then lifted him again and headed for the infirmary, Hogan leading the way.

When they got inside, Wilson was already there; LeBeau having notified the medic as soon as they'd returned to camp. Newkirk and Kinch brought Carter over to the cot next to where Wilson was standing and laid him down gently on it.

The medic began removing Carter's shirt while Kinch and Newkirk worked on the pants, being extra careful around the injured man's right leg. Wilson frowned when he saw the broken leg Carter was sporting and ran his hand over it lightly. "I'm going to have to reset this," he said.

"Will it hurt?" Carter asked, alarmed.

Wilson nodded. "I'm afraid so." He put his hand on Carter's shoulder and said, "I can give you something to bite down on, if you'd like."

Carter stared at him for a moment; then he shook his head. "No, that's okay, just do it," he replied, his face taking on a look of determination.

Wilson looked at Kinch and Newkirk, who were still standing near the cot. "I need one of you to hold him down while I reset the fracture."

"I'll do it," said Kinch. He stepped up, leaned over Carter and placed his hands on the sergeant's shoulders, pressing him down firmly onto the cot. Wilson waited for Kinch's nod that he was ready, then grabbed the broken leg and pulled, manipulating the bone back into place.

Carter clenched his jaw and grabbed Kinch's arms, squeezing them tightly when Wilson began working on his leg. A loud groan escaped his lips, and then his mouth fell open and he shrieked in pain as Wilson brought the bones back together.

"Hold on, Andrew," Kinch tried to reassure him, "Wilson's almost done."

"Yeah, mate, it'll be over in a tick," Newkirk added, looking on with concern.

Carter stilled and closed his eyes, his hands falling down onto the cot as he let go of Kinch's arms.

"There, got it," Wilson said, running his hand along Carter's leg where the bones were now in place, "Now I just need to put a cast on it."

"Uh, Wilson?" Kinch glanced at him, "I think Carter fainted."

Kinch stepped back as Wilson moved to the head of the cot and looked down at Carter, who appeared to be unconscious. The medic lifted Carter's eyelid, then grabbed his wrist to check his pulse. "He'll be okay," he said, "I think the pain, in his weakened condition, was too much for him."

Outside in the compound, they heard the unmistakable voice of Schultz announcing it was time for roll call.

"Fellas, we have to go," Hogan said, "I'm sure Wilson can handle things from here."

"Oh, Colonel, I could use some help with putting the cast on," Wilson called out as the men headed for the door.

"Sure, Wilson, I'll send one of the guys back after roll call."

"I'll do it, sir," Newkirk volunteered.

Hogan eyed him sternly, "All right, but I want to talk to you in my office when you're done."

"Yes, sir," Newkirk replied quietly, already having a pretty good idea what Hogan wanted to talk to him about.

Hogan, Kinch, and Newkirk walked to the front of Barracks Two and went to take their place in line. Klink showed up a few minutes later, and after his usual perfunctory speech, he stepped in front of Hogan and frowned.

"I trust Sergeant Carter will be all right," Klink said to him.

"Yes, sir," Hogan replied, "He's got a broken leg, but our medic will fix him up."

"I'm glad," Klink nodded, "And I hope this will be a lesson to you, Hogan," he raised his hand and wagged his finger at the American Colonel, "This is what happens when a prisoner tries to escape."

"Oh, yes, sir, the men have learned their lesson," Hogan replied "Believe me, they'll think twice before trying to escape again."

"Very well," Klink scowled as the last part of the American Colonel's statement sank in, "Hogan, if any more prisoners try to escape, I will hold you personally responsible."

Hogan hung his head slightly, looking properly chastised, "Yes, sir."

Satisfied, Klink stepped back and shouted, "Dismissed!" Then he turned and marched to his office.

Hogan began to walk towards the barracks, glancing at Newkirk and tossing him a nod. Newkirk nodded in return and headed back to the infirmary. Hogan then turned to Kinch, who was walking next to him, and said, "Go tell London the bombers were successful; the plant's been destroyed."

"Yes, sir," replied Kinch.

"Oh, and tell them we found our missing man," Hogan added.

Kinch smiled. "Now that's the best news I've been able to pass along in days, Colonel."

"Oui," LeBeau agreed as he followed the two men into the barracks, "Thank goodness Pierre found him."

"Even if he did disobey orders…" Kinch started, then, realizing what he was saying, glanced at Hogan and added in Newkirk's defense, "But if he hadn't, sir, we wouldn't have Carter back."

Hogan nodded. "I know, Kinch, but I'm still going to have a little talk with him when he's through helping Wilson." Then he headed into his office and closed the door behind him.

LeBeau and Kinch glanced at each other, Kinch shrugging as though to say he tried. He walked over to the false bottom bunk and climbed down to the tunnel while LeBeau went to make coffee, both of them hoping the colonel wouldn't be too hard on Newkirk.

* * *

When Newkirk arrived back at the infirmary, Wilson already had the supplies out and ready for the cast. As the Englishman walked over to the cot, he noticed with relief that Carter was awake. "How are you feelin', Andrew?" he asked him.

"Better," Carter replied weakly. There was a glass of water on the table next to the cot, along with a bottle of aspirin. "Wilson gave me something for the pain," he said, glancing at the bottle.

"It's not much, but it should help a little," Wilson commented. "Okay, Newkirk, if you want to hold his leg for me, just like this, I'll start putting on the cast."

"Right-o," Newkirk moved to the end of the cot and slid his hands under Carter's injured leg the way Wilson was holding it. The medic let go, then proceeded to wrap Carter's leg with stockinet. As he began applying the plaster of Paris bandages around it, Carter spoke up.

"Hey, Newkirk?"

Newkirk looked up at him, "Yes, Andrew?"

"I just wanted to say thanks. If you guys hadn't found me when you did, I don't think I would have lasted much longer."

Newkirk felt a lump form in his throat. He swallowed hard and replied, "Well, we had to find you, didn't we? Who else could make those ruddy explosives?"

Carter smiled, "I guess that means I don't have to worry about job security."

Wilson chuckled, "You and me, both."

"Yeah, Wilson, you get too much bloomin' business," Newkirk smirked.

Wilson nodded. "Mostly from you two and the guys you work with," he said, glancing briefly between Newkirk and Carter. He bent over his work again, and as he finished up with the cast, declared, "Well, that should just about do it."

"Hey, that looks pretty good," Carter remarked, looking down at his leg.

"It still has to dry," Wilson told him, "But it should protect your leg while your bone heals."

Newkirk walked over and grabbed a towel. "Wilson, if you don't need me anymore, I'd best be gettin' back to the barracks," he said, drying his hands.

"Can't you stay for a while?" Carter asked plaintively.

Newkirk shook his head. "Sorry, mate, the colonel wants to see me. But I'll pop by later. Can't let you have all this peace and quiet to yourself, now, can I?" he tossed Carter a wink.

"Okay," Carter replied, "Oh, and could you bring back some food with you? I'm starving."

Wilson grinned, "Don't worry, I'll get you something to eat, Carter."

"Thanks," Carter smiled, then his eyes lit up, "Hey, could you get me a bowl of that stuff they serve for breakfast at the mess hall?"

Newkirk frowned at him, "Are you serious?"

"Yeah, it just sounds really good to me right now."

Newkirk tossed Wilson a look and shook his head. "Must've hit his head when he fell," he murmured.

"Actually, I did, Newkirk," Carter said, "But it doesn't hurt anymore."

Wilson placed a hand on Newkirk's shoulder. "You go on; I'll take care of him."

Newkirk nodded. "Good luck," he whispered; then he waved his hand at Carter. "I'll be back, mate," he said to him as he headed for the door.

Newkirk crossed the compound and entered Barracks Two. He walked up to the door to Hogan's quarters and knocked, taking a deep breath and holding it until he heard the man inside say, "Come in." He exhaled forcefully and opened the door, shutting it behind him after he entered.

"You wanted to see me, Colonel?" he asked Hogan, who was sitting at his desk, looking at him.

"Yes, Newkirk," Hogan replied, rising from his chair, "And I think you know why."

"Sir, I know I disobeyed orders out there," Newkirk spoke in a rush, "But if I hadn't, Andrew would've been killed. Blimey, Colonel, I couldn't let that happen to him…"

Hogan held up his hand, "I know that, Newkirk, but if you hadn't found him when you did, you could have been killed out there, too."

"But, Colonel, I couldn't just leave him!"

Hogan studied him for a moment; then he let out a sigh. "I certainly can't fault you for your loyalty," he murmured. He folded his arms and leaned against the desk. "I'm grateful you found him, Newkirk, you must know that. But you can't run off like that and disobey my orders…"

"It'll never happen again, sir, I promise," Newkirk blurted out.

Hogan appeared to think it over. "All right," he said at last, "Just make sure it doesn't. Now, why don't you go grab a few hours of shuteye, you look like you could use –" he was interrupted by a knock at the door. "Come in," he called out.

The door opened and LeBeau stood there, looking at him with a worried expression on his face. "There's a car coming into camp, Colonel, it looks like Gestapo."

Hogan and Newkirk exchanged looks. Then Hogan strode out of his office and across the barracks, stopping at the outer door. He opened it a crack and peeked out, just in time to see the car come to a stop in front of the Kommandantur. The back door opened and a figure emerged – it was Major Hochstetter.


	8. Stranger Things

A/N: Thank you all for your kind reviews! This is the first multi-chapter story I've written in a few years, and I hope you have enjoyed reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it.

* * *

Hogan eased the barracks door closed and turned around. "It's Hochstetter," he said, glancing between Newkirk and LeBeau.

"Hochstetter?" LeBeau spat, "What's he doing here?"

"Only one way to find out," Hogan replied as he headed for his office, LeBeau and Newkirk following close behind.

The false-bottom bunk banged open and Kinch climbed out. Hogan saw him and waved him over before stepping into his office. Kinch caught up to the others and followed them inside the tiny room, closing the door behind him.

"What's up, Colonel?" Kinch asked.

"Major Hochstetter just arrived in camp," Hogan told him as he pulled out the coffee pot they used for a receiver and set it up on his desk.

"Blimey, you think he's here about that ruddy plant getting blown up?"

"That's exactly what I think, Newkirk," Hogan answered, sitting down on the chair in front of the desk. He turned on the receiver just in time to hear Klink's flustered greeting as Hochstetter entered his office.

" _Ah, Major Hochstetter! To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"_

" _Klink! This is not a social call! I am here because of the bombing raid earlier this morning."_

" _There was a bombing raid this morning?"_

" _Ja, there was a bombing raid this morning! A very important research facility was destroyed…"_

" _It was? Oh, that's terrible!"_

"… _Not far from here. Tell me, Klink, has Colonel Hogan been here all night?"_

"The man's a ruddy broken record, he is," Newkirk shook his head.

" _Of course, where else would he be?"_

" _Are you sure, Klink?"_

" _Yes, Major… Although we did have a prisoner missing for the last three days, but Schultz found him just this morning."_

" _What missing prisoner?"_

" _Oh, uh, Sergeant Carter, sir. He escaped three days ago, but Schultz found him and brought him back to camp. Like I always say, Major, there's never been a successful escape from Stalag Thirteen!"_

"Andrew! Blimey, Colonel, Hochstetter's going to suspect –"

"I'm on it," Hogan said, getting up from the chair and grabbing his jacket and crush cap. He hurried out of the barracks and across the compound, donning the jacket and cap en route, and burst into Klink's office.

"Kommandant, I wanted to ask you…" Hogan began, feigning surprise when he caught sight of the other man in the room, "Oh, Major Hochstetter! What a pleasant surprise!"

"Hogan, what are you doing here?" Klink asked irritably.

"Well, I was going to ask you for a favor, sir, but I see you have company," Hogan glanced sideways at Hochstetter.

"No, go ahead, Hogan," Hochstetter's smooth response barely masking the hostility underneath, "Ask your question."

"All right," Hogan said, still facing Klink, "I just wanted to ask if we could put up the volleyball net today, sir. The men want to practice for the upcoming tournament."

"Tournament?" Klink's eyebrow rose, "Why wasn't I notified of this?"

"Well, sir, we just came up with the idea about a half hour ago…"

"And will your man, Sergeant Carter, be participating?" Hochstetter cut in; the volume of his voice increasing slightly.

Hogan finally turned to look at him, "How can he, Major? He has a broken leg."

"And how did he break his leg?" Hochstetter's eyes twinkled, like a cat playing with a mouse.

"Well, if you must know, he tried to escape –"

"Aha!" Hochstetter exclaimed, raising his hand and pointing a finger at the American colonel, "Klink told me he was missing for three days! How do you explain that, Hogan?"

"Well if Klink already told you, Major, why are you asking me?"

Schultz appeared at the door just then. "You wanted to see me, Herr Kommandant?"

"No, Sergeant, _I_ wanted to see you," Hochstetter stepped forward.

Schultz swallowed hard.

"Tell me, Schultz," Hochstetter said, "Where did you find Sergeant Carter this morning?"

"I… I found him in a ravine, Herr Major," Schultz stammered.

"Yeah, it was about a kilometer south of here, isn't that what you told me, Schultz?" Hogan suggested.

"Ja, that's where I found him," Schultz nodded.

Hochstetter scowled, "Are you sure you didn't find him west of town, say, about six kilometers from here?"

"Now how would Carter get all the way out there with a broken leg?" Hogan scoffed.

"Bah!" Hochstetter stomped over to the door, "I'll speak with him myself." He paused, turning his head in Klink's direction, "I trust he's in the cooler?"

"Uh, no, Major, he's in the infirmary. You see –"

"The infirmary?" Hochstetter bellowed, "Klink, this isn't a country club! Dangerous prisoners are supposed to be kept in the cooler."

"Oh, c'mon, Major, Carter's not dangerous," Hogan said, "Besides, I keep telling you, he's got a broken leg."

"We'll see about that," Hochstetter replied menacingly as he stormed out of the office.

"Now wait a minute, Major," Hogan followed him out, "If you're going to interrogate him, you have to allow me to be present…"

As Hogan's voice faded, Klink looked at Schultz and frowned. "Well, don't just stand there, Schultz, let's go," he said, walking quickly towards the door.

Hochstetter marched across the compound, Hogan keeping stride directly behind him, while Klink and Schultz were a good distance back. The Gestapo major reached the infirmary, flung open the door and stepped inside.

Carter was sitting on the cot, propped up with pillows taken from the other empty cots in the room. He was holding a bowl in his left hand, and in his right was a spoon that he was in the process of bringing up to his mouth. When he saw Hochstetter barge into the room, his eyes popped wide and his hand froze, the spoon hovering between the bowl and his mouth.

"Aha!" Hochstetter yelled, pointing at him. Carter dropped the spoon, and it fell back into the bowl with a clatter.

Wilson, who had been taking inventory of his supplies that were stocked along the back wall, whirled around at the disruption. "What's going on?" he asked; irritation in his voice.

"Who is this man?" Hochstetter growled, now pointing at Wilson.

"That's Sergeant Wilson, our medic," Hogan answered as he walked over to the cot that Carter was occupying.

Klink and Schultz entered the infirmary, Klink taking a few steps into the room, while Schultz hovered near the door.

"Yes, Major Hochstetter, that's the camp medic," Klink reiterated.

"I don't care who he is, as long as he stays out of my way," Hochstetter walked over and stood next to the cot, on the opposite side of Hogan. He looked down at Carter and frowned. "So, you're Sergeant Carter, the prisoner who tried to escape, Ja?"

"Yes, sir," Carter answered meekly, staring warily up at Hochstetter.

"Tell, me, Sergeant, where did Schultz find you this morning?" Hochstetter saw Hogan open his mouth, and held up his hand. "I want Sergeant Carter to answer the question."

Carter's eyes darted to Hogan and back again. "Uh, in a ravine, not far from camp, sir. See, Major, I didn't get very far when I escaped, on account of it was dark and I lost my footing and rolled down a big hill, and when I landed at the bottom I noticed my leg was broken –"

"Enough!" Hochstetter shouted. He looked at the cast on Carter's leg. "How do I know your leg is really broken? This could all be a trick to cover up the real reason you were out of camp."

"The real reason, sir?"

"Ja, you were spying on a, a factory west of town!"

Carter's eyebrows shot up, "I was?"

"Major," Klink interrupted, "I thought you said it was a research facility –"

"Klink! I don't need your help!" Hochstetter yelled at him.

"Major, I can vouch for Carter's leg being broken," Hogan said, "I saw it when Schultz brought him in; it was pretty bad." He looked over at the German guard, "Wasn't it, Schultz?"

Schultz clucked his tongue, "It was terrible!"

Hogan turned to Klink, "You saw it, Kommandant, what did you think?"

"Oh yes, Hogan," Klink agreed, not actually remembering if he'd seen it or not, "It looked very bad."

"Bah! You're all just saying that!" Hochstetter eyed the cast, "Sergeant Wilson, you will remove this; I want to see for myself."

"Now hold on, Major," Wilson walked over and stood next to Hogan, "I just put that cast on, and I'm not cutting it off for you, or anyone else."

Hogan flashed Wilson a warning glance.

"You _will_ cut it off, Sergeant, or I'll see to it Klink puts you in the cooler for the remainder of the war," Hochstetter threatened.

Wilson folded his arms and stood his ground. "Do you know how much work it is to put those things on, Major?" he replied calmly, "Besides, I can already tell you what you'll see – a swollen, bruised area of tissue over the spot where the tibia broke; because, for three days, the ends of that bone were either stabbing into the soft flesh on the inside of Carter's leg, or they were grinding and scraping against each other every time he tried to move, making my job even harder when I had to pull the bone apart so I could snap the ends back together…"

There was a sudden loud crash and Hochstetter jumped. All eyes turned toward Carter, who was slumped on the cot with his eyes closed, his left arm stretched out over the side. The bowl he'd been holding had slipped from his hand and shattered on the floor below.

"Wilson, I think Carter fainted," Hogan said, looking at the unconscious man with concern.

Wilson leaned over Carter and checked his vitals. "He'll be all right, sir," he replied after a moment, "He's still pretty weak from spending three days outside in the elements with a broken leg." He glanced over at Hochstetter, as if daring the Major to try to refute him again.

Hogan looked at Hochstetter as well. "There, Major, do you still think he looks like a dangerous prisoner?" He gestured to Carter with his outstretched hand.

"Bah!" Hochstetter spat, glaring at the American colonel. "Very well, Hogan, you've made your point," he raised his hand and shook his finger at him, "But I still think you had something to do with the destruction of that research facility, and I won't rest until I can prove it!" He turned on his heel and stomped toward the door, pausing only to glance in the Kommandant's direction. "Klink!" he shouted, "This investigation is not over!"

"Yes, Major," Klink replied in a quivering voice as he followed Hochstetter out of the infirmary. Schultz shrugged his shoulders and followed Klink, leaving the American POWs alone at last.

Hogan turned his attention back to Carter, just as the sergeant was coming around. "What…happened?" Carter asked in a groggy voice, bringing a hand up to his head. He looked up at Hogan and his eyes quickly widened, "Is Major Hochstetter still here?"

"No, he's gone," Hogan replied, "How are you feeling?"

"Okay, I guess," Carter said, lowering his hand, "I take it I fainted again."

"Yes, and you have Wilson to thank for that." Hogan looked at the medic and frowned, "That description of Carter's injury; you knew it would make him pass out, didn't you?"

Wilson shrugged. "I was hoping it would, sir."

"You made me faint on purpose?" Carter's voice drifted up from the cot.

Hogan eyed Wilson angrily, "That's a big risk you took, you know."

"Maybe, Colonel, but it got rid of Major Hochstetter, didn't it?"

Hogan brought his hand up and pinched the bridge of his nose. He squeezed his eyes shut and let out a sigh before dropping his hand. "Wilson, don't ever do that again."

"I won't, sir," Wilson replied, sounding very much like a man who would do it again in a heartbeat if he thought it was necessary. "Now, if you'll excuse me, Colonel, I'll go get a broom to clean up the broken pieces from that bowl."

Hogan watched the medic walk away and shook his head. "I think Wilson's been taking lessons from Newkirk," he muttered.

"How's that, sir?" Carter eyed him curiously.

"Neither one of them seems to like obeying orders," Hogan groused. He sighed again and looked at Carter, "But, if Newkirk hadn't disobeyed me and run off to look for you, you wouldn't be here. He's the one who found you."

"Well, begging the Colonel's pardon, then, but I'm glad he disobeyed you."

Hogan smiled and laid a hand on his shoulder, "Me too, Carter."

Wilson returned with a broom and dustpan. "Sorry about the mess," Carter apologized as the medic began sweeping.

"It's all right," Wilson grinned, "Do you want me to get you some more of that stuff from the mess hall?"

"Uh, no thanks, I'm okay for now."

"Well, I see you have everything under control," Hogan said, "I better get back to the barracks."

"Oh, Colonel, is Newkirk coming back soon to visit me?" Carter asked.

"I'm sure he'll be around before too long," Hogan replied, "I was going to tell him to get some rest, but if I know him, he'd probably rather come back here to see how you're doing."

Carter smiled; then a thought occurred to him and his brow furrowed, "Colonel, why would Newkirk come looking for me when he wasn't supposed to, anyway?"

Hogan stared thoughtfully at him for a moment. "Because he blamed himself for leaving you out there, and for what happened to you," he answered truthfully.

Carter's frown deepened, "Well, geez, Colonel, I don't know why he would blame himself; it's not his fault."

Hogan nodded. "Try telling _him_ that," he mumbled; then he turned and headed out of the infirmary.

* * *

Two days later Carter found himself sitting outside Barracks Two on one of the benches aligning the side of the building. He'd been discharged from the infirmary, and was enjoying the heat from the unusually warm, sunny day so late in the season. A group of men were playing volleyball and Carter watched wistfully, wishing he could join in. He was already tired of wearing a cast, and the thought of putting up with it for another six weeks or so made him cringe.

He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and noticed Newkirk walk up and sit down next to him. "Here you go, mate," the Englander said, passing a bowl over to him with a spoon sticking out of it.

"Thanks, Newkirk," Carter replied as he took the bowl.

"I still don't know how you can eat that ruddy swill," Newkirk remarked, crinkling his nose in disgust.

"I know, it's kinda funny," Carter said before shoving a big spoonful of the mush from the mess hall into his mouth. After he swallowed it, he continued, "I guess I just developed a taste for it when I was stuck in that hole."

Newkirk shook his head. They sat in silence until Carter was finished, then the sergeant set the bowl down next to him on the bench and sighed. He raised his hand, gesturing to the volleyball game currently going on and said, "Will you look at that? This is probably the last nice day we're gonna have before it starts getting cold, and I can't even play."

Newkirk looked at him, a smirk forming on his face, "Oh I don't know, Andrew, you can always try hopping on one foot."

"Very funny," Carter replied, trying to look serious before a grin overtook his face.

The pair watched the game for a few more minutes; then Carter turned his head to look at the Englander. "Newkirk?"

"Yeah, mate?"

"I never thanked you for saving my life."

Newkirk swallowed hard and tossed him a sideways glance. "Blimey, Andrew, why are you thanking me? It wasn't just me out there draggin' you out of that ruddy hole, was it? Have you forgotten the gov'nor was there, too? Along with LeBeau and Kinch…"

"But you're the one who found me," Carter cut in, "The Colonel told me you went against orders to look for me."

"The Colonel needs to mind his own bloody business," Newkirk mumbled irritably.

Carter smiled, "Well, I just wanted to say thanks."

Newkirk shifted uncomfortably. "You're welcome," he muttered quietly; then, in a louder voice, "Mind you don't go gettin' yourself lost like that again, Andrew."

"Don't worry, I won't!" Carter promised.

The door to the barracks opened and LeBeau stepped outside. When he saw the bowl sitting on the bench next to Carter, he frowned. "Andre, how can you eat that horrible stuff? Why don't you come inside, I just made some stew that will taste so much better."

"Okay," Carter's eyes lit up, "Believe it or not, I'm still hungry."

"Oh, I believe it," Newkirk said, standing up and grabbing the crutches that were leaning against the building next to Carter. He helped the sergeant up and handed him the crutches; then walked behind him into the barracks, ready to assist him if needed.

LeBeau had already pulled the bench out from the table so Carter could sit with his injured leg stretched out. As he took his seat, he handed his crutches to Newkirk, who leaned them up against the double bunk he shared with Carter.

Hogan came out of his office just then, smiling when he saw Carter sitting at the table. "How's your leg feeling today?"

"Sore," Carter replied, "And it itches, sir."

"That means it's healing," LeBeau said as he set a plate of stew down on the table in front of him.

"LeBeau, I could use some of that, myself, it smells delicious," Hogan walked over to the stove and spooned some of the stew onto a plate. He took a seat at the table opposite Carter.

LeBeau filled another plate for Newkirk, and then for himself. They went to join the other two men already at the table.

"You're right, Louis," Carter said between mouthfuls, "This is a lot better."

"Of course, mon ami," LeBeau grinned as he sat down next to him.

Carter ate a few more bites, then put his fork down and frowned at the Englishman across the table. "One thing I don't understand, Newkirk, is how on Earth you found me in the dark, in the woods, in the middle of the night?"

"You had your flashlight on, mate," Newkirk replied, "It was shinin' straight up into the air above that hole."

"It was?" Carter cocked his head to the side, a confused expression on his face, "Funny, I don't even remember turning it on."

The false bottom bunk opened and Kinch stepped out. He was holding something in his hand and, as he walked up to the table, they could see it was a flashlight.

"Hey, fellas, I was checking the batteries in the flashlights to see if any need replacing, and I came across this one," Kinch held it up. "Newkirk, it was lying where you left yours when we came back from rescuing Carter. Tell me this isn't the one you were using when we got him out of that hole."

Newkirk shook his head, "No mate, it's Andrew's flashlight, I just nabbed it before I climbed out; no sense leaving it down there."

"Hey, that is my flashlight!" Carter exclaimed.

Kinch frowned, "Well, that doesn't make any sense…"

"What doesn't?" Hogan asked.

"That this is Carter's flashlight, sir," Kinch answered. "Newkirk, you said Carter had his flashlight on, and that's how you found him, right?" he asked the Englishman.

"That's right," Newkirk nodded, "In fact; we were just talkin' about that."

Kinch looked perplexed. He unscrewed the top of the flashlight and turned the handle over. "Well, I don't know how he could have done that," he said, letting the small cylindrical objects inside slide halfway out onto his hand, "When the batteries in here are upside down."

There was silence as the men all glanced at each other with wide eyes; none of them having a clue what to say.


End file.
